


The Worst Demon Ever

by drunkkenobi



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Body Horror, Come Sharing, Comedy, Demon Sex, Demon Shane Madej, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage, Oral Sex, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 21:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 67,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15805086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkkenobi/pseuds/drunkkenobi
Summary: Shane is so bad at being a demon that he fell in love with his best friend. When he purposefully leaves evidence in an episode of Unsolved, Hell decides to punish him the best way they know how: by going after Ryan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, thank you so much to [beethechange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beethechange/pseuds/beethechange) for the beta! Secondly, this is my take on the demon!Shane trope! It’s got its angsty and violent moments but my romantic comedy tendencies got the better of me in the end. 
> 
> All the violence is supernatural in nature and I will warn for it in the appropriate chapters, and blood as well. Let me know if there is anything else that should be warned/tagged for! 
> 
> Oh and none of my haunted locations are based on anything real.

CW: Blood, brief descriptions of violence

_Shit, shit, shit._

The footsteps were quickly getting louder, Shane didn’t have much time left. Fingers shakier than he’d like to admit, he checked and double checked that the footage was deleted (it was) before performing some intricate hand gestures to reapply the glamour. Looking down, his bloodied and torn clothing now appeared clean and mended.

Next, he just needed to put the room back but the footsteps were so close now, he knew he didn’t have enough time to tidy it all up. He shoved a bunch of the old and decrepit furniture in front of the scratch marks on the wall and pulled the moth-eaten rug from the center of the room over with his feet to cover the bloodstains on the floor. There were still some overturned chairs but he could blame that on clumsiness.

“Dude, what the hell is going on in-” The door opened, the man behind the door handle falling silent as the hinges swung.

“Oh hey, yeah, sorry I fell. Big ol’ stilt legs here crashed in the dark. I should have had your helmet on,” he chuckled, waiting for the inevitable crack at his height.

But it didn’t come.

Eyes wide, wider than he’d ever seen them, Ryan stood completely still in the doorway. Ryan was never still, or silent. What the hell?

“Ryan, what’s up? You okay?”

He gingerly walked toward him, stepping over the broken chairs and wondering if he’d messed something up, if he’d made the doorway impenetrable when he was doing the glamour. Ugh, he was going to have a hard time explaining this one away, wasn’t he?

“Hello, earth to Ry-,” he stopped, catching a glimpse of himself in the dusty broken mirror by the doorway. Dark sticky blood matted the ends of his hair, dripping down onto his forehead, while a bit of bright red flesh hung off his left horn. Glancing back at Ryan, it was obvious that he saw it too, the horror written all over his face.

Goddammit, his boss was going to kill him.

\----

Shane had never really been very good at this whole demon thing. His entire life, he’d never had a knack for it. Oh sure, he loved scaring humans, that was fun, but the rest? The torture and possessions and just all around douchebaggery? Not as much his thing. No one knew why he was like this, he just was.

Because of his lack of enthusiasm for flaying the damned, he had spent most of his life on Earth, either invisible or posing as a human. Most demons stayed in one place, but he’d travel around, feeding off their fear of unexplained footsteps and strange noises while indulging in the best that humanity had to offer (namely, food and entertainment) and trying to find somewhere to belong. But he never did, so he kept drifting, alone.

However, once humans invented the camera, and later, the motion picture camera, Hell had to start taking the idea of being exposed seriously. Oh sure, lots of different religions believed in its existence already, but that was different than all of humanity knowing it was there. So, the Underworld restructured: every demon was assigned a job and a boss to keep track of them, so they could control the possibility of being discovered.

It was Shane’s worst nightmare. Instead of being able to roam freely and freak out some locals when needed, now he had to report to someone and be assigned to specific locations. He wasn’t good enough at shapeshifting or altering his appearance to be a cryptid, he wasn’t bloodthirsty enough to stay in Hell, and he didn’t have the clout to be assigned his own designated haunting location, so he got moved around a lot. While sometimes it went okay, other times it was a disaster (he did not look back on his two years with Goatman and his bridge fondly).

It had taken until the 2000s for him to finally find his calling: paranormal investigation television.

Whether it was due to cable channels needing time to fill or all the new fangled equipment, ghost hunting shows sprung up like weeds during that time. The demons back home loved them, mocking and soaking up the humans’ fear in equal measure, while Shane got to follow them around in-person, albeit invisibly.

He’d first been assigned to trail the various crews on _Ghost Hunters_ , leading them away from truly haunted locations with a faint EVP there or a mysteriously drained camera battery here. He’d still been getting his feet wet, so he never let anything too outrageous happen on that show, but it had been a great learning experience.

When that series fizzled, he got reassigned to _Ghost Adventures_. Now that had been glorious. They were some of the few humans that he genuinely enjoyed making miserable and he had so much fun fucking with them. They were so amped all the time that it didn’t take much to make them believe they were catching golden evidence every night.

That success had led here, to being the first on-screen demon in a paranormal investigation show. It was a small distinction (many of his kind had infiltrated the entertainment industry before, after all), but it was one he was proud of, nonetheless. Taking on the role of the skeptic, the Scully to little Ryan Bergara’s Mulder, was way more fun than he ever had scratching those ghost bros. Shooting down every theory, every EVP, every footstep made his heart jump with twisted delight. He’d spend hours planning out the little inscrutable crumbs he’d leave for Ryan to find when they were on the road. He was especially proud of “apple tater”; he still owed Emily at the Bellaire house for helping him with that one.

But despite the unbridled joy Shane got from continually fucking with his co-host, he had grown very fond of Ryan. He’d even begun to love their True Crime seasons almost as much as the Supernatural ones because he enjoyed speculating with him about who killed that movie star or what happened to a bunch of stolen artwork too much. He’d never admit it to another demon, but he got more fulfillment out of making Ryan laugh than he did from scaring the shit out of him.

Tonight was supposed to be like any other night. They were at some “haunted” old house in the South and they were spending the night. Shane didn’t know anyone from around here but from his research, it didn’t seem like there was a designated ghost or demon or anything haunting it. So, without anyone to help him out, he’d planned to make the house creak a couple times and then smugly announce that he didn’t hear it. Hey, look, not every episode could have compelling evidence. That would ruin it.

But a half-hour after the filming crew left, they heard footsteps, and Shane smelled the tell-tale stench of sulfur. Footsteps and sulfur that Shane had not asked for or done himself. Fighting off his annoyance that someone was jacking his gig, he told Ryan to wait downstairs while he investigated the supposedly super creepy and haunted upstairs bedroom.

“Wait, we should both go up there, though,” Ryan frowned.

“Nah, we don’t need to clean up your puke all over the floor. I’ll handle it.”

After strapping on his camera gear, he crept up the stairs, hissing in his true voice that could only be heard in the other being’s mind.

“ _Hey, what’s the big idea?”_

No response. Hmm. Maybe no one was here. Was Ryan really starting to rub off on him this much? Jesus, what a pathetic excuse-

“ _Your little friend looks simply delicious_ ,” an equally horrible and low voice finally answered him. Wherever this asshole was, he was keeping himself invisible. Good.

“ _Yeah, yeah I know. But he’s with me, we have a whole thing.”_

 _“But surely you can feel his fear! I haven’t felt anything like that in decades, maybe centuries!”_ the voice responded, incredulous.

Shane rolled his eyes. “ _I’m sure, but it doesn’t matter because we need his fear to keep feeding us for as long as this Buzzfeed train will take us. Feel free to stick around tonight, just don’t do too much, okay? I’ve got a whole thing planned for our next trip so I expected this one to be pretty low key.”_

_“Buzz...feed? What is that, a bee demon?”_

“ _No, but it doesn’t matter. Just promise me you’ll stay out of sight, okay?”_

As the fellow demon was considering Shane’s offer, a gust of wind flew by the house, cracking open one of the decades-old shutters on the porch. The scream that ripped out of Ryan would have normally been the funniest goddamn thing in the world, but instead Shane’s throat seized up. Ryan’s fear was so strong anyway, and now he was practically drowning in it. Shane blinked, allowing his truesight to take over, so he could see where the other demon actually was. Swiveling his head around, he spotted his red aura trying to sneak down the stairs. You’ve got to be kidding, dude.

Gripping his hand over the demon’s shoulder, Shane let just the tips of his claws dig into his skin. “ _C’mon man. You’ll get a century in the pit, at least. He’s not worth it.”_

The demon turned around with a snarl, his invisibility dropping. Shane almost felt bad for him, his skin was withered and grey and his claws looked like toothpicks. Shane had no idea how the guy even had enough magic left in him to turn invisible, he probably hadn’t gotten a true scare out of someone in decades. No wonder he was ready to throw it away for Ryan’s short-statured soul.

“ _Okay, I’ll change my plans, you can haunt the hell out of him tonight. Just don’t hurt him. Deal?”_

“Shane? Is that you coming back downstairs? I swear to Christ I heard something,” Ryan asked, voice shaking just a little too much.

The demon was too starved, too desperate. He made a lunge for the bottom stairs but Shane’s grip stopped him and flung him back across the upstairs hallway. Eyes full of hatred, the demon lunged back with ease but Shane was prepared, meeting him halfway and pushing him into the bedroom, managing to pull the door shut behind him.

Time worked funny for demons. Centuries could feel like days, minutes could feel like decades, or an hour could feel like an hour. The laws of physics didn’t apply to them, especially when they were in Hell or around each other and not keeping up the various spells and tricks to make them appear human. So, when Shane wiped blood off his watch and realized it had only been about 2 minutes since he left Ryan downstairs, he let out a small “Oh, good,” to no one in particular. Certainly not to the other demon, who was now little more than a pile of blood and viscera at his feet.

It had been awhile since Shane killed. Mid-1500s, he thought, but he had a couple close calls in the 1960s. He had never enjoyed it, although he could never tell anyone that. It was messy and gross and the chaos of a demon fight was just...unpleasant. So much blood and guts, all driven by survival instinct that was thousands of years old, and they only ended when someone died.

This one never had a chance, he was too weak, but Shane still didn’t take it easy on him. He felt a tiny bit weird about the overkill but considering the alternative was letting him terrify Ryan into a vegetative state or worse...yeah, he made the right call.

\----

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck Jesus Christ fuck fuck no no fuck no,” Ryan had finally reanimated, dropping his flashlight and sprinting away from Shane’s bloodied demon face.

Or maybe not.

“Ryan, wait!” he called after him, cursing himself for fucking up his spell so badly. Quickly, he did it again, double checking in the mirror that his horns and all that blood are no longer visible, before running after him.

When he hit the bottom of the stairs, Ryan was nowhere to be seen, but it didn’t matter, Shane could still sniff him out easily. His fear was so strong, so palpable, he was shocked some old ghoul hadn’t floated out of the woodwork looking for a midnight snack. Not for the first time, Shane was thankful that humans had no idea which places were actually haunted and which weren’t.

He followed the scent outside, only to be hit by a different, overwhelming stench.

“Oh shit, you actually puked. And I left the camera upstairs, damn it!” he joked, strolling up next to a heaving Ryan, who attempted to stumble away.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” he warned, wiping his mouth on his hoodie sleeve.

“Buddy, it’s okay, it’s me,” Shane said, holding up his hands. “What happened, did you have a night terror or something?”

“Fuck you,” he snarled with none of the usual playful banter that peppered his insults. “What did you do with Shane?”

“Ryan, I am Shane,” he said, gingerly stepping closer. He had to play this exactly right. “Why do you think I’m not?”

Ryan pointed a shaking finger at his head. “Horns….blood...so much blood.”

He doubled over again, dry heaving into the uncut grass. Taking a chance, Shane rushed to his side, softly gripping his shoulder. Thankfully, Ryan didn’t push him away.

“Hey, it’s okay. Look at me, no blood, no horns.”

Ryan glanced up, his eyes bloodshot, watery, and disbelieving. “No no no, I saw it, I saw _them_.”

“Well, there are no horns here,” he said, running his free hand through his hair, his shame at fucking up the spell earlier momentarily replaced by pride. “No blood, either.”

Tentatively, Ryan reached out towards Shane’s head, fingers feeling around for a horn and coming up empty. His hand brushed the tips of Shane’s hair and Shane had to deter an impulse to lean into it. Give him a break, Ryan had nice hands.

When Ryan realized there were no horns (not that he could tell, anyway), relief washed over his face like a bucket of cold water.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m losing my mind,” he laughed uneasily, standing back up straight. “I swear to God I saw your face covered in bright red blood and you had these creepy ass horns and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. What the fuck kind of ghost can do that?”

“None. Because ghosts-,”

“Aren’t real, yeah yeah yeah,” Ryan finished with his usual annoyance. Shane inwardly breathed a small sigh of relief - the more Ryan was like his old self, the more likely he could explain all of this away.

“Look, I don’t know what happened up there but I’m still Shane and I’m okay,” he lied, giving Ryan’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “C’mon, let’s look at the cameras, see if we find anything spooky on them.”

“Okay, yeah, cameras. Good idea,” he nodded, allowing Shane to lead him back towards the house. But as they approached the front door, Ryan stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” he shook his head. “I can’t fucking go back in there.”

“Ryan…,”

“No, don’t even fucking start with me, alright? I know you don’t believe me but I saw something in there and I am not going back in.”

“I believe you.”

Ryan eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

“I believe that you saw what you said you saw,” he repeated. “I also believe that it wasn’t a ghost, but I believe that you really did see something scary.”

“Christ, you won’t let me have anything will you?” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “And here for a second I thought you weren’t a condescending asshole.”

“Aw, what fun would that be?” Shane smirked as he headed inside, leaving Ryan out on the musty old porch. Thank Lucifer he could count on Ryan being a scaredy cat; now he could clean up this mess in peace.

Once he was inside and the front door was shut, he grabbed the stationary night vision camera that filmed their makeshift beds and reviewed the footage. Some faint footsteps that he knew belonged to the hungry demon & a bit of their earlier scuffle, but since Shane was blaming the furniture moving on clumsiness, he could leave all that in, along with Ryan’s freakout that made Sallie House’s quaint in comparison. This camera only caught his higher pitched “fuck”’s and his eventual sprinting out of the house, but it was enough to sate Shane’s hunger. He couldn’t wait to see what Ryan’s phone had captured.

But before that, he really needed to get the upstairs cleaned up. An old rug may have temporarily hidden the dead demon from Ryan, but it wouldn’t from this house’s owners. Taking the steps two at a time, Shane quickly got to work putting the old bedroom back together again.

Opening his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small vial of crystal blue liquid and tipped a couple drops of it onto the bloodied floor. Within a few seconds, all of the blood and guts were gone, and the old wooden floor was like new (well, as new as a ninety year-old house’s floor could look). Next, he wiped a couple drops of the cleaning agent on the scratch marks and watched as the wall repaired itself. He made a small mental note to make sure to never talk shit about witches on the show; they really did know their stuff.

After doing a more thorough sweep of the bedroom for any more remnants of the other demon, Shane pocketed the supernatural Windex and went about looking for Ryan’s phone. He’d been using it to film himself when he went to check on Shane and it almost definitely would have footage of bloodied and horned Shane on it. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to find, as it had been dropped right at the top of the stairs. It really was such a gift that Ryan was so terrified of everything.

With a wave of his fingers, he bypassed the security code and loaded the most recent video:

Ryan was still in his sleeping bag when he’d turned the phone’s video on, catching the end of their earlier conversation.

“-down here. I’ll check out the ghosties.”

“Wait, we should both go up there, though.”

“Nah, we don’t need to clean up your puke all over the floor. I’ll handle it.”

“Asshole,” Ryan muttered to himself as he began his wait.

Wind soon howled, causing the shutter to crack against the window and Ryan to shriek, followed by clear footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Shane? Is that you coming back downstairs? I swear to Christ I heard something.”

Then, a muffled _bang_ and the slamming of a door. Shane considered taking the door slam out but since Ryan had opened it, that’d be too much to explain. Easier just to say the wind did it (and there had been wind).

The phone picked up a couple more muffled scrapes and bangs as Shane’s fight with the demon continued. Ryan turned the camera around to briefly film himself. His eyes were as wide as Shane had ever seen them.

“Fuck fuck fuck you guys, _something_ is going on up there. It can’t just be Shane, can it?”

After a particularly loud _bang_ that made Shane cringe (he hadn’t realized he’d been that noisy), Ryan cautiously walked over to the staircase.

“Shane?”

When he hadn’t answered, he put a shaky foot on the first stair. “I’m coming up!”

Shane sighed as he watched. Ryan was never brave at the right time.

As he crept upstairs, the phone didn’t capture much of the sounds of Shane’s hurried cleaning, thankfully. The less he had to edit the better.

Then Ryan opened the bedroom door.

“Dude, what the hell is going on in-.”

Illuminated by the phone’s bright video light was Shane, in all his demonic glory. It looked even worse on here than in the mirror, shiny red blood dripping off his face, and his black, twisted horns prominently displayed, especially as he stepped closer into frame. All in all, the phone stayed on him for about thirty seconds before Ryan bolted, dropping it along the way.

Not ideal but Shane could work with this. It helped that he’d reacted “humanly” (more or less) to Ryan so all he had manipulate was the video and not the audio. Setting the phone in his lap, he performed a fairly tricky spell that allowed him to manipulate digital images. While his appearance glamours could always use work, this is where he really shined.

Most demons were still analog, refusing to get with the times and learn how to work on computers or cameras or smartphones, but not Shane. Back in the 1980s, he’d been assigned to haunting some movie studios (his boss really wanted to make that Poltergeist movie curse stick), and there, he’d learned how to do digital and special effects. That knowledge, plus a bit of ol’ demon magic, was what got him on this ghost hunting track in the first place, since he could erase any truly convincing evidence if needed.

A lot of demons gave him shit for not just using memory manipulation to cover his tracks, but Shane had never cared for those. It was so lazy, and besides, too many memory spells and the person started to lose their mind. Shane was a demon but he wasn’t a total dick.

Scrubbing through the video frame by frame, he methodically erased the blood and horns of it all. But as he got to the end, something Ryan said earlier kept repeating in his head.

“ _Christ, you won’t let me have anything will you?”_

Shane stared at the final few frames before Ryan ran. The angle wasn’t as clear as the rest of them, because he was already turning away so Shane’s horns weren’t really visible, and it was just a quick shot of his bloody face.

He knew he should clean it up. It was the smart thing to do. He could explain Ryan’s freakout away a hundred ways and everything would continue on usual.

_“Christ, you won’t let me have anything will you?”_

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, dropping the video editing spell to rub his hands over his face. Why was he even entertaining this? The guys downstairs would give him hell (heh) for it and it would only cause chaos up here.

But Ryan...Ryan would love it. He’d lose his fucking mind, in a good way for once. He’d shove this in Shane’s face forever, and the thought made Shane’s gut squirm. He’d have to spend the rest of this part of his life coming up with bullshit theories while Ryan and his Boogaras gave him untold piles of shit. But he’d be with Ryan. This would guarantee another few years of Unsolved, at minimum.

“Don’t say I never gave you anything,” he mumbled to himself before loudly bounding down the stairs and back outside.

“Ryan! Holy shit, you gotta see this!”

\-----

It was their most popular video ever. It wasn’t even close.

Of course their fans ate it up, but it went beyond that. A couple of those tabloid news shows aired it and then everybody’s aunt and grandma on Facebook started sharing it, claiming they saw something just like it back in 1978 or whatever. It even got so popular that Ryan and Shane got invited onto a couple local daytime talk shows, telling their story of the night in the spooky Grove house in North Carolina.

While many of the viral comments about their video were about skeptics turning into believers, there were just as many that went the opposite. Reaction videos of fans turning against the boys for “obviously faking” evidence cropped up at an alarming rate. Shane, especially, got a lot of vitriol thrown his way for ruining his integrity by going along with these super obvious special effects. In true Shane fashion, his response was “I had integrity?”

But Ryan didn’t care. Oh sure, he didn’t appreciate being called a liar or a fake, but that paled in comparison to how fucking great it felt to be validated by the evidence. Evidence that wasn’t so easily explained away, like footsteps being the wind or a disembodied voice being an owl. There, for a half dozen frames on his phone, was Shane’s inexplicably bloody face.

He couldn’t tell anyone how many times he’d watched it. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, who knew. It defied explanation, logic, physics, literally nothing about it made sense.

But it was real.

Something, a ghost, a demon, a spirit, _something_ , had manifested in front of Shane’s face that night. Something that was covered in blood.

Something with horns.

While Shane couldn’t explain away the blood, he was pretty adamant that the horns were a weird shadow or trick of the light. Objectively, Ryan knew he had a point. The angle wasn’t great, because he’d been in the process of turning around to run away so those dark horns plausibly could be a shadow. And while Ryan still defended himself on camera, he let Shane have that possibility. The blood was way more compelling and unexplainable, afterall.

But Ryan knew they were there.

He didn’t understand why his phone’s video only captured six frames of what he’d seen for a good thirty seconds: Shane’s giant weird face covered in thick blood and two dark twisted horns jutting out of the sides of his giant weird head. Maybe apparitions (or whatever the hell it was) operated on frequencies cameras don’t always pick up? Or maybe it got stronger, feeding off energy or something, and that’s why the camera only caught it at the end.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was something else.

Ryan had a notebook, pages filled with possible explanations for what he saw that night. Everything ranging from a mental breakdown to a murdered ghost to aliens to Mothman (hey, couldn’t rule it out). But there was one he kept coming back to, one scrawled sideways in the margins of the lined paper.

_Shane possessed?_

He knew how it sounded but, in his mind, it made the most sense. Shane went up there, alone. Ryan heard furniture being shoved around and two sets of footsteps. Shane didn’t respond when Ryan yelled for him. And then the showstopper, Ryan seeing a bloodied and horned Shane walk towards him, as if nothing was wrong.

Plus there was this kicker: Shane found Ryan’s phone. He looked at the video first, even though Ryan had never told him his phone’s security code. This came up once in the Q&A and Shane waved it off, saying that he’d seen Ryan type it in a hundred times, but that never sat right with him. He’d questioned Shane about it once, off-camera, but it didn’t get anywhere, besides Shane sincerely apologizing for it and promising to never watch him unlock his phone again.

It was a reasonable, if kind of dickish explanation. But Ryan didn’t think it was the truth.

Ryan knew he could go too far, sometimes. That his willingness to believe in the unexplainable could lead to him believing in _anything_. But when he laid everything out that they got on camera plus what Ryan remembered, it’s what made the most sense.

Shane went upstairs, met with some sort of ghost or demon or something, and then the ghost or demon or something possessed him. It explained all the noises Ryan (and the downstairs camera) heard, why Shane didn’t respond to Ryan shouting for him, and where Shane’s briefly bloody face came from: it was the ghost or demon or something showing itself, probably on accident, as it adjusted to its new host. It was fucking crazy but, to Ryan, it was the most likely explanation.

He didn’t dare tell anyone, though. It was too likely to get back to Shane and he’d never hear the end of it if it did. Sure, they’d joked around in the Q&A’s about Shane being a cryptid or whatever, but they were just that: jokes. He couldn’t let anyone know that he was actually keeping a record of everything Shane did and said since they’d left the Grove house, looking for any fallacy that would confirm Ryan’s suspicions.

But, so far, nothing. Shane was, seemingly, the same old Shane. Of course, it didn’t help that the same old Shane was weird as hell and doing things that made no sense anyway (Ryan was still waiting for a reasonable explanation for the Hot Daga).

The only thing that seemed different was that Shane was on his phone a lot more lately, texting somebody or somebodies. But maybe Shane was always on his phone a lot and Ryan had just never paid enough attention before. And besides, what did that even prove? What the hell kind of ghost is going to possess someone and spend all their time on a smartphone?

 _The kind that wants to understand this new world and so they’re constantly Googling everything_ , the voice in Ryan’s head said.

Still, though, it wasn’t enough, so Ryan continued to keep it to himself, just making notes in his phone’s notepad every time he saw Shane and protecting it all behind a fingerprint lockscreen.

Was he crazy? Maybe. But as he paused his phone’s video for the millionth time on Shane’s slick red face, he knew he wasn’t going to stop until he knew for sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: little bit of blood

_G: You are so lucky that you are modestly famous right now or I would kill you myself._

_S: Over six frames of a shitty phone video? Please. Most people think it’s fake anyway._

_G: You know damn well it isn’t though and that’s enough evidence to cut out your heart and throw it to the dogs._

_S: Sure, but when was the last time YOU scared this many people? Your bridge isn’t even yours anymore. ;)_

_G: Fuck off. Don’t ever say I didn’t try to warn you._

_S: I’ll be sure to thank you in my Christmas letter this year._

_G: I’m serious. You better hope it’s me that gets to do the deed. At least you know I won’t go after your little buddy._

_S: They wouldn’t dare. Ryan’s too valuable._

_G: Like I said, don’t say I never warned you._

Shane tossed his phone onto his desk with a frown. He knew there was going to be a shitstorm when he left those frames untouched, but he’d really underestimated how shitty the storm was going to be. Every goddamn day he was inundated with texts from the underworld, threatening to disembowel him in a hundred wildly creative ways. He could handle that, and his boss who was constantly cussing him out, but this latest one from his ex was the first to give him serious pause. If it was true, if the demonic court was going to punish him, there was no way they’d include Ryan in it. It would raise too many questions, and besides, Ryan’s palpable, intoxicating fear was the main reason Shane was currently still alive. As mad as everyone was at him back home, they couldn’t help but watch the video just as much as the humans had.

“Tinder date problems?” Ryan asked, nodding to Shane’s discarded phone from his seat next to him.

“Nah, nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”

Ryan’s tone was casual, a little too casual, something he had been doing a lot lately. Always asking him about who he was texting or what his weekend plans were or even just staring at him when he thought Shane didn’t notice. Shane had an idea of what he thought it all meant but it was probably just wishful thinking.

“Just some asshole from back home, giving me shit for our video. Apparently the local city council isn’t pleased with their eighth-most famous resident being known for a ‘demonic’ viral vid.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You really think you’re the eighth most famous person from your town?”

He shrugged. “It’s between me and the State Fair Hot Dog Eating Champion.”

Ryan laughed, adjusting his headphones as he went back to editing their True Crime episode for the week. Shane hated how his gut squirmed every time he made Ryan laugh. He was a demon for fuck’s sake, not a hormonal teenager.

He tried to put that, and his ex’s texts, out of his mind and focus on his next Ruining History episode, but it wasn’t working. What if they did send someone after Ryan? Either to teach Shane a lesson or make him suffer? It wasn’t like the denizens of hell had any qualms about him being an innocent. Shane realized he really needed to start keeping a closer eye on him when they weren’t at work, the one place he knew no one would fuck with them.

“Hey. Ryan. Hey!” he said, finally tossing a pen at him to get his attention.

“What the hell?” Ryan questioned, slipping his headphones off. “You don’t have to throw things, you animal.”

Shane ignored the insult. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Oh, uh, I dunno. There’s a Lakers game on, I’m probably gonna watch that. Why?”

“Another one?! Didn’t you just watch one like two nights ago?”

“Yeah, it’s basketball, dude. They play a lot of games.”

“Weird,” Shane shook his head. Never in his thousands of years of existence had he ever understood the appeal of sports. “Do you wanna grab a beer and some grub after work? I’ll even let you pick the place.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” he said. “There’s a sports bar right near my place, I’ll text you the address.”

“All of Los Angeles at our fingertips and you want to go to a sports bar?” Shane grimaced in disgust.

Ryan pointed Shane’s thrown pen at him. “Hey, you said I get to choose! And I still want to see this game.”

“Fine. But you owe me a beer.”

“Wait, this was your idea, why am I suddenly paying for your drink?”

“Because otherwise I’ll complain the whole time.”

Ryan laughed in that exasperated way they’d both become so accustomed to, the kind of laugh that would earn a _(wheeze)_ on an Unsolved episode. Shane hated himself for how much he loved that laugh.

\------

They met outside the bar later that night, a divey little place that nonetheless had a few flatscreens hanging around broadcasting various basketball and baseball games, and one that was, for some reason, tuned to a bowling tournament. But beyond the televisions, it didn’t scream “SPORTS!” like how Shane was imagining it would. Multi-colored holiday lights hung from the ceiling, while a taxidermied jackalope watched over the bar, and the walls were decorated with various street signs and other local paraphernalia. In the back, there was even a pool table and a dartboard, although both looked like they had seen better days.

“See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

“It’s alright,” Shane conceded. “You still owe me one beer, though.”

Ryan rolled his eyes as he lifted himself onto one of the elevated chairs by the television playing the Lakers game. “Whatever.”

Shane joined him, easing into the chair a lot more gracefully than Ryan had, thanks to his height. After ordering their first round and some food, they settled into their usual hang out routine, chatting about work and sharing fan questions that are too weird for them to answer on the Post-Mortems.

“Hey look at this one: ‘shane whats ur shoe size??’. Do I have a foot fetishist fan?”

“Looks like,” Ryan grinned. “Is it bad that I’m a little offended they only asked for yours?”

“Well, yours are completely average, it makes sense that they’d only be interested in these monsters.” Sticking his leg out, he wiggled his gigantic foot around for Ryan to see.

Ryan groaned, copying Shane’s foot shake with his own. “Oh God, we both wore our matching boots.”

“I wonder if my foot fetish fan is into that,” Shane mused, causing Ryan to dissolve into a fit of giggles, which made Shane’s stomach twist.

“You okay?” Ryan asked, eyeing Shane’s hand on his midsection. Shit, he didn’t even realize he’d done that.

“Yeah, just gotta hit the head,” he lied, pointing his thumb towards the bathrooms.

“Please, say no more,” Ryan grimaced, holding his hands up to block his view of Shane.

“Roger.”

Once in the single stall, he locked the door and let out a gasp he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. Fuck, he was such an idiot. It was like Rule Number One for demons masquerading as humans not to fall for a human, and here he was, getting butterflies from a _laugh._ And the worst part was that he’d been falling for awhile.

Not magicking away that footage wasn’t the beginning, Shane wasn’t sure what was, but it certainly was the most obvious indication he had a crush. Of course, Ryan didn’t know that, he could never know that, and it didn’t matter anyway because Shane was a fucking demon and even though he caught Ryan staring at him all the time, it could never happen.

He just needed to calm down, get past all this mess with the footage, and then he could go back to only seeing Ryan at work and forget all about his stupid little crush. Of course, his boss might kill him before then, but at least that solved the problem too.

Feeling slightly better, he turned on the faucet to wash his hands (had to keep up the appearance that he’d actually used the bathroom) but then the smell hit him.

Sulfur.

 _Fuck_.

He wrenched open the door, tearing the lock off the hinge. Thankfully, no one was waiting so it went unnoticed, but he didn’t really care anyway. His gaze immediately went to Ryan, hoping he was still sitting alone, watching his dumb game, but no, he’d been joined by a very normal looking white guy.

Too normal.

Barely managing to compose himself, Shane stomped over to them, glaring daggers at this guy. There was no question he was a demon, the rotten egg smell was pouring off of him so strongly that he could have had little cartoon stink lines hovering around him. When Shane finally caught his eye, this asshole had the audacity to _wink_ at him. Wink!

“I see you made a friend,” he said, swallowing every violent, demonic instinct in him. There was no way this was a coincidence. No way.

“Oh yeah, this is...John, right? He’s here to actually watch the game, like most people do at sports bars,” Ryan chided, introducing them.

John held out his hand, gigantic shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Nice to meet you. Not a basketball fan, I take it?”

Shane returned the handshake as tightly as he could. “Nope.”

 _“Leave him out of this,_ ” he warned in his true voice.

“ _That’s no fun,”_ John smirked.

“ _I_ _f there’s a hit on me, fine, but seriously, leave him alone.”_

“ _No hit, not yet. Just doing a bit of recon.”_

“Uh, everything okay guys?” Ryan asked, his eyes ping-ponging back and forth between the two seemingly silent men engaging in the world’s most intense handshake.

“Fine,” Shane said tersely, dropping John’s hand abruptly. “I’m gonna get a shot. You want one, Ryan?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you’re paying, sure.”

“I’ll take one as well,” John said.

“Then get it yourself,” Shane sneered before heading to the bar, his head swimming. He was so fucked. If assholes like this guy were already starting to sniff him out that hit was likely coming sooner than later. And to show up, _in person,_ to chat Ryan up? That was pretty fucking brazen. Shane had to get control of this situation, and fast.

But first. Alcohol.

“Three tequila shots, please,” he said, slapping his credit card down on the bar.

As the bartender poured the liquor, Ryan stepped up next to him.

“I thought you weren’t buying him one.”

“I’m not,” Shane said, downing two of the shots one right after the other.

“Jesus Christ, dude, what is going on?” Ryan asked, taking his shot glass but not drinking it.

“Another one please, barkeep,” he motioned to the bartender. “I have decided to get very drunk tonight, that’s all.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he said, holding up his new shot glass to clink against Ryan’s. “Care to join me?”

Ryan stared at him, his warm, dark eyes studying him like a casefile, and it made Shane’s cheeks flush. Goddammit, he was the worst demon ever.

Finally, he shrugged, throwing back the shot and triumphantly slamming it against the bar. “Fuck it. Let’s do it!”

\-----

It took a lot for demons to get drunk on alcohol. Their tolerance far outweighed humans’, and besides, their intoxicants of choice were usually less tangible than a shot of tequila: despair, fear, misery, war, you know, the good stuff.

So, the fact that within two hours of his first shots Shane could not stand up straight was pretty damn telling.

“Jesus Christ dude, you’re gonna give yourself alcohol poisoning,” Ryan said, leaning against the pool table. Once the basketball game had ended, John invited them to a game of pool. Naturally, Shane declined, trying to urge Ryan to leave with him, but it didn’t work. So instead of playing, he continued drinking heavily while sullenly keeping on eye on his fellow demon.

“‘M alright,” he slurred in between sips of a whiskey sour. “Midwestern blood, no one can drink like us.”

“It’s your funeral,” Ryan shrugged, turning back to take his shot. He scratched, the cue ball happily rolling into a corner pocket.

Shane laughed. “Maybe I’m not the only one who should slow down.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“Ah-ha! Now I remember,” John said after pulling the cue ball out of its pocket and pointing a finger at them.

The joy from riffing with Ryan immediately gone, Shane narrowed his eyes at the fellow demon. “Remember what?”

“Where I recognized you guys from! You were in that viral ghost hunting video last month right? With the bloody face?”

“Oh yeah, that’s us, the Ghoul Boys,” Ryan smiled. “You saw it? What’d you think?”

John strolled over to stand next to Ryan and Shane suddenly wished he wasn’t so drunk. “Oh, I’m definitely with you. There’s no way that wasn’t a ghost or a demon! Way too real looking.”

“Right?! But this guy just won’t listen to reason,” Ryan grinned, shaking his head at Shane. “He says it was the phone malfunctioning.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of a phone doing something like that,” John smirked, eyes trained on Shane’s. Shane’s general anti-murdering stance was quickly changing course.

“Makes more sense than ghosts,” Shane muttered into his glass.

“Does it, though?” John asked before turning back to Ryan. “You said you saw it in person, too, right? How could the phone mess up in the same way as what you saw?”

“Exactly!” Ryan gushed. “That’s what I’ve been saying! He’s just doesn’t believe.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” John said, shooting Shane a devilish smile that only he could see before continuing. “I wonder if he _does_ believe but doesn’t want to admit he’s wrong.”

Ryan shook his head. “Nah, trust me. I know him well enough, he may be a stubborn asshole but we’ve talked enough about it off-camera and everything. He just doesn’t believe in ghosts and he won’t until he sees one for himself.”

“And you’re sure he didn’t?”

“What’re you talking about?” Ryan cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, what _are_ you talking about?” Shane echoed with restrained malice. Where the fuck was this asshole going with this?

“I’m just wondering if _perhaps_ Shane here did see a ghost when he was in that room alone. I mean, there were all those strange noises, not to mention it’s pretty convenient that his camera didn’t record any footage. It would make sense if he did see something but didn’t want to admit he’d been wrong.”

“Fun theory, buddy, but Shane would never fuck with our footage, that’s his number one rule. And like I said, we’ve talked a lot about this, he really didn’t see anything.”

Shane’s stomach twisted again, but this time not because of Ryan’s laugh. Now he understood; John wasn’t just there to observe Shane in case of a hit, he was getting some light-to-medium emotional torture in as well.

“Really? Well, you have more faith in your friend than I do,” John said with a shrug.

“Well, yeah,” Ryan shifted defensively, glancing briefly back at Shane. “Our show wouldn’t work if we didn’t trust each other. You don’t go ghost hunting in an abandoned asylum or haunted house with just anyone.”

John was barely holding back his glee at how perfectly Ryan twisted the knife in Shane’s gut and Shane very much wanted to return the favor, just with an actual knife. Lying and deceiving came with the territory of being a demon and it usually never bothered him much, but with Ryan...yeah, you don’t go ghost hunting with just anyone. And even though this had all started as a just another gig for him, his friendship with Ryan was real. He really did love hanging out and making their videos and eating absurd amounts of boysenberries with him. And it wasn’t just because he loved making him laugh.

“My mistake then. I obviously didn’t realize what a rich friendship you two have,” John apologized, although only Shane knew it was fake.

“ _You’re going to be so easy to destroy,”_ he added in his true voice.

“ _Not if I destroy you first.”_

_“That’d be a neat trick. When was the last time you killed, the Dark Ages?”_

_“A couple months ago, asshole.”_

_“Please, like knocking off a decrepit old fool like him counts. Just wait until a bunch of us are after you and your little friend here.”_

_“Keep him out of it!”_ Shane growled so forcefully that the holiday lights hanging above their heads flickered.

“Whoa, you guys see that?” Ryan asked, studying the lights. “Did it start storming outside and we didn’t notice?”

“Maybe it’s a ghost. Or a demon,” John suggested with the smuggest grin in the world.

Ryan started to chuckle. “Yeah, probably not-wait, Shane, holy shit your hand!”

“Hm? Ah shit.”

In his anger, Shane had crushed his whiskey sour glass with his right hand and there was blood gushing onto the high table he was leaning on. Between a demon’s extremely high pain tolerance and the alcohol, he hadn’t even realized he’d done it.

While Ryan rushed to the bartender to get a towel, John laughed in his true voice, a dark and terrible rumble that reverberated through Shane's skull.

_“See you soon.”_

And then he was gone.

Shane swore a blue streak under his breath. Trickster bullshit, showing up just long enough to ruin his night. He halfway hoped he would get a hit taken out on him, if only for the chance to rip that asshole’s head off.

Ryan then reappeared with a bar towel and a very annoyed bartender.

“Try not to make this a bigger health hazard than it already is,” she said, pulling on some thick rubber gloves.

“Of course. We'll get outta here really soon,” Ryan said, gently laying the towel on Shane's bleeding palm. “I just gotta get us an Uber to the hospital.”

“What? I don't need to go to the hospital for a lousy cut,” Shane protested.

“You probably need stitches, idiot.”

Shane waved him off with his good hand. “I’ll be fine with a few band-aids. Trust me.”

“Jesus, you’re even stubborn about this,” Ryan muttered, wrapping the towel around Shane’s hand. “Hold that in place tightly until we get to my apartment.”

“I can take care of this at my place, it’s fine.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, tugging on Shane’s jacket sleeve. “Like I’m gonna trust the guy too drunk to stand to get home by himself, let alone bandage his jacked up hand. C’mon, it’s a block away, try not to bleed everywhere.”

Shane grumbled, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. He genuinely didn’t need to go to a hospital, the flask of healing liquid in his jacket pocket would patch his palm right up, but he didn’t see a way to sneak some right now.

Ryan led them outside, apologizing profusely to the staff on their way. Shane would have too, but being mobile now proved to be a bigger challenge than he anticipated.

“Shit. Ow,” he grumbled, tripping on the sidewalk. He didn’t fall, catching himself by grabbing a road sign, with his injured hand.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a mess. C’mere,” Ryan said, looping Shane’s left arm around his shoulders. It was an awkward stance, thanks to their height difference and lack of sobriety. Shane tried to keep as much of his weight off of Ryan as possible, but as they got closer to Ryan’s apartment building he found himself slumping against him more and more, until his head was pressed uncomfortably against Ryan’s. To his credit, Ryan didn’t outwardly complain and was able to keep them both upright, even as they stumbled into the building. Shane thought he maybe should stop giving him shit for working out all the time.

Once inside, Ryan led them to a very sketchy and old looking elevator.

“I never take this thing but I am not carrying you up four flights of stairs.”

“Fair.”

The elevator doors opened with a creak, welcoming them in, stained floor and all.

“It’s slow as fuck, just FYI,” Ryan warned, pressing the 5 button.

Shane just nodded as he tried to adjust his stance but his stupid stilt legs weren’t listening to him and he ended up squeezing his left arm around Ryan’s chest to keep himself upright. Ryan’s grip on his arm tightened and a jolt reverberated through his body, like he was suddenly very aware of how much he and Ryan were actually touching and how he very much did not want it to end.

“S’ok, I got you, Big Guy,” Ryan said softly.

“I know,” he murmured against the side of his head.

Silence fell over them as the elevator crept along. This night had gone so wrong but all Shane could focus on right now was Ryan: his fingers clutching Shane’s arm, the smell of his shampoo, how soft his t-shirt was, and most enticingly, a faint waft of nerves. Nervousness didn’t have quite the same effect as fear on demons, but Shane could still sniff it out easily. He didn’t necessarily _want_ Ryan to be nervous but maybe he was okay with making Ryan nervous, if it was the right kind of nervous.

Eventually, the elevator stopped, the door squeaking as it opened.

“You sure this isn’t haunted?”

“Funny,” Ryan sighed, pulling him down the hallway.

At his door, Ryan had to let go so he could unlock it and Shane actually groaned _out loud_ at the loss of contact. He really didn’t think it could be harder to hate himself tonight but he’d done it.

If Ryan noticed he didn’t say anything, instead once again grabbing Shane’s arm and guiding him inside once the door was opened. He led him to the couch, easing him down gently.

“If you bleed on my carpet, you owe me for my deposit.”

“Yessir.”

“I’ve got a first aid kit somewhere, gimme a couple minutes.”

Shane nodded, watching him walk to the bathroom. Once he was out of view, Shane quickly undid his makeshift wrapping to see how bad the damage truly was. A few small and medium cuts and one particularly nasty one across his palm. Ryan was right, it would have needed stitches, if he was human. But he wasn’t, so, he pulled out the flask from his inside jacket pocket and tipped the smallest amount of lime green liquid onto the bad cut and watched the skin knit itself back together. He quickly repocketed the flask and rewrapped the wound so Ryan would have something to bandage up, but at least now he didn’t have to deal with all the tricks and spells needed to be a patient at the hospital.

“Found it,” Ryan said, emerging victoriously from the bathroom. “Never been opened, you get to be the lucky first.”

“Hooray,” he deadpanned.

Ryan sat next to him on the couch, ripping open the plastic wrapper on the small kit and then cracking it open. Inside were dozens of different sizes of bandages, gauze, antibiotic cream, pretty much everything you’d expect. Ryan carefully unwrapped Shane’s bloody towel, wrinkling his nose at how gross it was.

“Ugh, this is a horrorshow.”

“It can’t be, you’re not freaking out like you just heard a rubber shoe pivot on a concrete floor.”

“Hilarious,” he sighed but with a hint of a smile behind it. “Oh hey, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“Told ya.”

“I guess so,” he conceded, grabbing some antiseptic wipes from the kit to clean up the leftover cuts.

“I can’t believe you even have one of those.”

“My mom got it,” Ryan shrugged, pulling Shane’s wrist so his hand was now on Ryan’s knee.

“Ah. Classic mom-ow, hey!” he protested as the wipes’ cleaning agent stung against his tender skin.

Ryan laughed exasperatedly. “You didn’t even notice you broke a glass in your hand earlier but you’re gonna whine about this? So weird.”

“I am full of multitudes, Ryan Bergara.”

“You’re full of something, alright. Also that is so not the wording for that phrase.”

“Aw, c’mon, gimme a break. I’m drunk and injured,” Shane whined, putting on a very exaggerated pout.

“No, _I’m_ drunk, sorta. You are obliterated,” Ryan pointed out, tossing the dirty antiseptic wipes onto the bloody towel before grabbing a handful of bandages and gauze from the first aid kit.

“You’re doing pretty good for being a sorta drunk nurse,” Shane said, tone softer than he intended. Ugh, he couldn’t even banter correctly right now he was so full of alcohol.

“Thanks,” Ryan flashed him a surprised smile and Shane’s stomach turned in on itself so much he had to break the eye contact, turning his focus to his outstretched injured hand.

Ryan was smoothing the first band-aid over a slice on the tip of Shane’s index finger. Maybe it’s because he was drunk but it was oddly engrossing to watch, Ryan’s fingers carefully stretching Shane’s out to ensure he wasn’t missing a cut anywhere. Shane couldn’t believe how gentle he was. Not that he’d ever thought of Ryan as not-gentle, but still, it was surprising.

Once his fingers were bandaged up, Ryan unspooled some of the gauze. “Should we put this on your palm? I think that’s what it’s for, right, spots that band-aids don’t work on?”

Shane genuinely had no idea. “Sure, that sounds right.”

Ryan placed the end of the gauze in the middle of Shane’s palm, holding it in place as he unrolled it around the back of his hand. It wasn’t technically holding hands but it was close, close enough to make Shane’s throat dry and for his heart to beat loudly in his ears.

After weaving the gauze around his hand a couple more times, Ryan snipped it off the roll and tied it into a lopsided knot on Shane’s palm.

“There, all set,” he said, lightly tapping it with pride. Shane’s fingers reflexively curled inward, catching Ryan’s for a brief, agonizing second.

“Heh, sorry,” Shane mumbled, pulling his hand away to keep himself from holding on.

“S’alright,” Ryan said, the faint scent of nerves wafting off him again. But Shane still didn’t know what kind. For all he knew Ryan could be nervous because he wasn’t into dudes (or at least, not into him) and didn’t want Shane thinking he was.

The possibility of that scenario made Shane’s heart clench. He had to get out of here, had to go home, sleep off this booze, put all of these gross gooey feelings out of his mind, and focus on what the Underworld had planned for him.

“Well, Nurse Bergarara,” he slurred, attempting to stand up but immediately having to sit back down thanks to the dizziness. “I should get outta your hair.”

Ryan looked at him like he was idiot, which he was, so fair. “Uh, you realize you’re sleeping here, right?”

Shane’s eyes went wide. “I am?”

“Yeah, you drunk dumbass. It’s fine, take my bed, I’ll sleep out here.”

“What? No no no, I’ll sleep here.”

Standing up, Ryan sighed. “You don’t fit, Big Guy.”

“I can fit,” he said, stretching out on the small couch, his long legs comically hanging off the edge. “See?”

“Why are you so fucking stubborn?”

Shane shrugged awkwardly, still spread out on the couch. “Years of practice, I guess.”

“Well, for once, knock it off and just let me help you,” he said, holding out his hand.

Well, there was no way he was going to say no to that. Not tonight.

Grabbing Ryan’s hand, Shane pulled himself up and off the couch, swaying just enough that he had to grip Ryan’s side to stay upright.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, although he really wasn’t sorry at all.

“S’ok.” Ryan licked his lips and oh fuck, could this actually happen? The nerves were positively pouring off of him now and Shane’s heart was buzzing. Should he make a move? No, he should he wait for Ryan to do it. Would Ryan go for it? He probably wouldn’t go for it. But what if-

“Uh, dude, your phone,” Ryan said, breaking Shane out of his reverie. “It’s going off.”

Shane patted his inside coat pocket to find that his phone was vibrating with a call. So that’s where that buzzing feeling was coming from.

“Hmm,” he murmured, fishing it out. He had a bunch of texts and a missed call from “Mom”.

Ah shit.

“Mom” was the name he used for his boss, his _real_ boss. She never called unless something was wrong, so kind of like a human mom. He couldn’t deal with that right now, though, she’d have to wait until morning.

“‘Twas my mother,” Shane explained, repocketing the phone. “No drunken Shane for her.”

“Good call,” Ryan nodded before quickly pivoting around. “C’mon, my room’s down here.”

The tension from a few seconds earlier was gone and Shane was pretty sure he’d never hated another demon more in his life, not even that John asshole from earlier tonight. Of all the fucking times for her to call.

Gingerly, he followed Ryan down the hallway into his room. It was a little messy and there was a bunch of sports shit on one of the walls, but overall it was a bit nicer than he would have expected.

Ryan grabbed a small wastebasket out of the far corner and set it next to the bed. “Trash can in case you need it. I can get you some water and Advil if you need it, too.”

“Ryan, you’ve done enough, seriously. I’m good,” he said, flopping down on the bed.

“You sure? It’s really no big deal. I did this for my college roommates all the time.”

“Yeah, you’re off the hook, Nurse Bergararara,” he grinned, hoping to make him laugh. He did.

“Jesus Christ, go to sleep you drunk asshole,” he grinned back, pushing lightly on Shane’s shoulder.

Shane fell back dramatically before pulling the covers up. “Yes, Nurse.”

“Okay, I’m leaving.”

“Hey, Ryan, wait,” he swallowed, his entire demeanor softening. He felt like he had to say something, anything…

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Ryan’s face twisted in confusion. “For what?”

“For tonight. For being me,” he said quietly.

Ryan was studying him again, trying so hard to make sense of him. When he couldn’t, he just patted Shane on the shoulder.

“Go to sleep, Shane.”

\---

Well, tonight had been fucking weird.

Ryan plopped down onto his couch, running his hand through his hair, trying to process the last few hours. Something was up with Shane and while Ryan had no idea what it was, he knew it couldn’t be good.

Instinctively, he opened up his Possessed Shane memo on his phone, scanning over the last few notes he’d made. Nothing there really corresponded to what happened tonight, Shane getting shitfaced, being a dick to that John guy at the bar, breaking a glass in his hand, holding Ryan’s side…

Oh fuck.

Shane wasn’t possessed (probably). Shane liked him. _Like-liked_ him.

Ryan was such a goddamn idiot.

He tossed his phone aside to hold his face in his hands. It all made sense now. Shane had been drinking beer, _light_ beer, until that John guy had showed up. He got jealous and pissy and shit, Ryan really should have figured that out. At the time, he thought Shane was being his typical weird self but no, he got too drunk too quickly for it to be just that. And the glass breaking...well, that was right after John had accused Shane of lying about the bloody face video so if he was already not liking this guy’s existence, of course that put him over the top. And then, just a few minutes ago, when he’d grabbed Ryan’s side and then just... _regarded_ him, like he was waiting for a signal, any signal, to move in for a kiss.

Not to mention “I’m sorry for tonight. For being me.”

Fuck.

Ryan fell back against the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Of course he had thought about it, the way you think about all of your single friends at some point or another. Shane was attractive, if in a slightly unconventional way, and tall and funny and wasn’t a total disaster like lots of other LA people were. But they were friends, and more importantly, co-hosts. Unsolved meant too much to Ryan, he never would have upset that balance on the slim chance Shane would be into him.

But if he was....

Ryan closed his eyes, thinking of Shane’s head pressed against his in the elevator, his breath heavy on his skin. Shane’s slender fingers closing around his, just for a second. Shane steadying himself, those same fingers curled around his side, the air stilling around them, Ryan’s heart beating in his ears. If Shane’s phone hadn’t buzzed, what would have happened? Would Shane have kissed him? Would Ryan have let him? Or would Ryan have kissed him first?

Ryan’s dick twitched.

Well, thanks for answering that question.

Shit, this was _Shane_. He was a stubborn asshole who constantly belittled Ryan’s beliefs and never gave him an inch. And he didn’t even like basketball! They were friends, best friends, even, but they’d never be compatible that way, would they?

On the other hand, they were together _all the time_. They worked, literally, right next to each other. Their job required them to travel together, sleep in the same hotel room together, ghost hunt together, do photoshoots and promotional interviews and conventions together, and they still made time to go to the movies, grab drinks, and chill out together, and Ryan never really got sick of him. Things were easy with Shane, they just got each other on a molecular level, even if they mostly used that as ammunition to give each other shit.

Could they do this? Could they be together on that deeper level? How would it effect the show? Would they even bring it up? And what would happen if they broke up? Fuck, that would be awkward, it could destroy Unsolved. No, no way would he let that happen.

But what if they didn’t break up?

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, images of Shane flashed through his mind: enjoying Christmas dinner at his parents’ house, showing Ryan around Chicago with his arm wrapped around his shoulders, crawling on top of him with that piercing gaze that always made Ryan’s stomach flip, pressing his lips against his...

He squirmed on the sofa, his dick pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. Shit, this was a mess already. To no one’s surprise, he was getting ahead of himself, thinking of every possible outcome when the most obvious one was staring at him right in the face:

Shane probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, so nothing Ryan was thinking (and overthinking) about would even matter.

With a sigh, Ryan twisted around to lay down properly, pulling his couch blanket down on top of him. On the off-chance Shane’s memory wasn’t obliterated, he decided he’d let him take the lead. If he acted like it didn’t happen, then it didn’t happen. And if he did, well. Ryan would deal with it then.

\--------

* _do-do-do-dooo* *do-do-do-dooo*_

“Ughhh, no,” Ryan grumbled, fumbling for his phone’s alarm with his eyes just barely cracked. He wasn’t that hungover, just had a mild headache and some dry mouth, but he really should be allowed to stay home the night after he bandaged up his dumb drunk buddy’s hand and also realized said dumb drunk buddy was maybe into him. In _that_ way.

Speaking of, there was no way Shane was going to be able to go into work. He considered calling in for him but thought that would be awkward so he padded down the hallway to his room. When he knocked, the door opened, it hadn’t been shut all the way. Huh.

“Shane?” Ryan whispered as he stepped inside. But there was no Shane. And the bed was made. “What the fuck?”

He looked back down the hallway confirming that no one was in the bathroom. Ryan’s apartment only had so many rooms, where the hell could he be?

“Shane?” Ryan repeated, louder this time, making his way to the kitchen. That was empty too, except there was a piece of paper (well, the back of a bar receipt) taped to his coffee maker.

Frowning, he pulled it off.

_Ryan -_

_Didn’t want to wake you. Thanks for letting me crash and patching me up. See you at work._

_-Shane_

_PS I “borrowed” a coffee mug_

“What the fuck?” Ryan said out loud to no one. How was Shane not half dead from the world’s worst hangover? And how had Ryan slept through him leaving, the couch was right by the door?!

“Maybe he is possessed,” he yawned, trudging back to his room to get ready. At least he had one question answered: last night didn’t happen. Now Ryan just had to figure out how he felt about that.

\---

Shane felt like shit.

Physically, he was fine. A sip of his witch’s potion had cleared his hangover right up. But emotionally? Mentally? Total garbage.

He couldn’t believe he’d let himself lose that much control last night, just because of some dickhead other demon, whose entire purpose was to make him feel like shit! He should have seen that coming a mile away and put that asshole in his place and not let it ruin his night with Ryan.

And Ryan...fuck. Shane knew Ryan was only barely intoxicated but he hoped he didn’t remember much from last night. All the touching and tension, fuck, there was no wonder Ryan had been nervous. His stupid giant friend was drunkenly hitting on him like a creep. Look, Shane was a demon but he wasn’t _gross_.

And on top of all that, he had to deal with this bullshit.

_Shane, it’s…”mom”. You already know how pissed off I am so I won’t get into it again but just remember, I am so pissed off at you for making me deal with this but I’ve dealt with it. That’s what I do. But I can’t do it anymore. Not because I’m quitting, but because I’ve done as much as they’ll let me. They’ve done an inquest. You have to come back._

_I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what that means. If the news is good, it’ll be swift. If it’s bad, it won’t. And on the off chance they rule in your favor….well, I will probably still have to replace you._

_Regardless, it’s this Friday. I know you have a commitment so I’ll set up the necessary time distortions since I know you suck at those._

_Call me. Or don’t, I don’t care._

He’d listened to the voicemail Lucille, his “mom”, his actual boss, had left half a dozen times so far. An inquest? For a fucking YouTube video with less hits than even the less popular Justin Bieber ones?

Okay, sure, the evidence was a lot more realistic and less easily debunked than what they allowed. But not everyone who watched it believed it, the legion of “Shaniacs” were still out there, making their own videos about how it was fake bullshit. They were his failsafe! Why weren’t they enough?

A hit would have been better, at least he would have a chance, even if it meant living on the run. Inquests almost never went in the demon-on-trial’s favor. It was hardly surprising. Demons were the most bloodthirsty and vindictive creatures in the history of the universe, of course they often voted to rip someone limb from limb, even if they were another demon. And that was one of the lighter sentences!

He was so fucked.

* _bing* Message from Ryan Bergara_

_R: Hey can’t believe you’re alive and functioning_

_S: It’s my midwestern blood._

_R: You always say that is it rly a thing?_

_S:Trust me_

_R: Well im doin a coffee & breakfast run before work u want something? U should probs eat _

_S: Is that your official prognosis as my doctor?_

_R: I thought i was your nurse_

_S: You got promoted._

_R: Then yeah, you need a rly giant breakfast burrito. Doctors orders_

_S: Can’t say no to that. :)_

_R: Knew you wouldnt :)_

So so so incredibly fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: blood (lots of blood), brief overheard violence, possible body horror

Shane spent the next few days flipping between utter abject terror and a weirdly calm sense of resignation. Of course he wanted to win his case, but the fact that he most likely wouldn’t was sort of relaxing. Hey, he’d had a good run, he was just glad to go out for something he did on purpose and not some dumb mistake.

His main worry was that they’d punish him by going after Ryan, but Lucille didn’t seem to think so. He had finally called her, getting three straight minutes of a tearing down only she could do before letting him speak. Lucille had friends in the Hell court system and the chatter was all about what to do with Shane, nothing about Ryan at all. As long as it stayed that way, Shane was fine with whatever vile torture and death they sent his way.

So, he’d spent his probable last few days on earth living it up, as they say. He called in some favors from his witch friend, Annie, to extend the hours of his day and to allow him to eat without ever getting full, so he spent a lot of this last days trawling LA for all the world’s cuisines. You could say a lot about humans, but _damn,_  they knew how to cook.

But when he wasn’t gorging himself, he was mostly with Ryan. In his defense, they were pretty busy with Unsolved, filming a post-mortem and a new Supernatural episode this weekend. Of course, there was a chance that he’d be dead before he and Ryan were set to spend all night in some fucked up hospital an hour outside of the city, but the Janitors would be on that if needed.

The one good thing that had happened this week was that Ryan wasn’t acting any different around him, meaning Shane hopefully hadn’t freaked him out too much. And even though he found himself daydreaming of what would have happened if Lucille hadn’t called, he was relieved she had. He didn’t think he could have handled leaving Ryan so soon after kissing him for the first time.

Once Friday arrived, Shane mostly treated it like any other day. He did take time to dress in his best suit before throwing together an appearance spell of his favorite flannel-hoodie-jacket combination. He also gave his precious enshrined butterfly a wistful glance as he left his apartment, hoping it wouldn’t end up in a dumpster when the Janitors cleared out his place.

Shane didn’t know when his trial was going to start (Hell didn’t experience time the way the natural world did so it was hard to compare them) so as the day wore on and no calls or summons, his calm reserve eroded into nervous energy.

“You okay?” Ryan asked him as they were riding in the Buzzfeed rental van to their haunted hospital. Shane’s legs had been erratically tapping for at least six straight minutes.

“Hm? Oh yeah, fine.”

“You sure? This is usually the time you start rehearsing all your jokes making fun of the ghosts.”

“Decided to improv it tonight. Don’t want anything to get too stale,” he explained, unconvincingly.

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him, his lips upturning in a smirk. “Wait, are you nervous about this ghost hunt? For the first time ever?”

“Nope.”

Ryan wheezed and Shane’s nerves spiked for a different reason. “You are so full of shit! You’re actually nervous! Oh man, gimme a second to get my phone.”

“Ryan…”

Ryan hurriedly turned his phone’s video camera on and started narrating.

“So, tonight we’re investigating a haunted hospital near Los Angeles and Shane here appears to be a tiny bit nervous,” he teased, turning the phone around to shoot Shane. “See?”

“I am not nervous,” he frowned, crossing his arms defensively.

“Yes, you are! The ghosts and demons finally getting to you?”

“Not at all. Maybe I’m just not excited about sleeping in a disgusting old hospital that probably has old needles lying around.”

“Wait,” Ryan was shaking the phone he was giggling too much. “Do you think you’re gonna get stabbed with a heroin needle tonight?!”

“I don’t _not_ think that.”

Ryan finally just had to set the phone down, he was laughing too hard, and Shane joined him. Fuck, he was gonna miss that laugh.

Once their laughter subsided, Ryan stopped filming and pocketed his phone. “Oh man, that’s making it in the episode, for sure.”

Shane’s smile faltered. There wasn’t going to be an episode of this, at least not of _them_. The Janitors would probably replace Shane with a lookalike for a couple weeks before killing him off or having him move away, like a sitcom character. Shane’s heart suddenly felt heavy, the realization that this was likely to be his last real conversation with Ryan finally settling in.

“Hey, Ryan?”

“Hm?”

“I really love doing this show, with you.”

He looked up from his show notes to give Shane a puzzled stare. “Um, okay. That was sort of out of nowhere.”

“I know, sorry. I just realized I’d never said it before and I thought I should.”

Ryan smiled crookedly. “Oh. Well, me too. I love doing the show with you, too.”

It was Shane’s turn to study his face, soaking up every curve, every hair, every angle. He still could not believe how badly he’d fallen for Ryan, but his impending destruction had finally made him accept it. Shane loved him, loved his smile, loved his laugh, loved his completely ridiculous theories (not to mention his completely ridiculous arms). He was the only person Shane had ever met that made him feel like he belonged.

Christ, he was going to miss him.

“Shane...are you sure you’re okay?” Ryan asked again, quieter this time.

“Never better.”

\-----

They got to the hospital around dusk and quickly filmed some outside shots before setting up the chairs and lighting to film their pre-ghost hunting material. Shane couldn’t stop looking at his phone, just waiting for that damn summons to come.

Finally, the lighting was all set and Ryan had all of his narration ready to go. Fucking demons, they were really gonna drag this out on him, huh?

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate St. Francis’s Hospital as part of our ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?”

Shane automatically shook his head.

Then his phone rang.

The crew grumbled and Ryan glared at him. “Really, dude?”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s my mom, my grandmother’s been sick,” Shane said, already standing and hurrying towards the door. “Be right back.”

The crew waved him off while Ryan was obviously checking to make sure his phone was on silent. As Shane opened the door to his destiny, he glanced back one last time at Ryan to make sure he was the last person on Earth he’d ever see.

Outside, Lucille was waiting for him, albeit invisibly. Shane blinked into his truesight to see her properly.

“C’mon. The Janitors have the time spells ready,” she said, drawing a doorway in the air with an outstretched claw. “After you.”

As he crossed the threshold, all of his appearance spells dropped, returning him to his true demon form. Black twisted horns, black eyes, red pointed tail, clawed fingertips even longer than his human ones that appeared to have been dipped in red paint, and his best suit. A fitted black three-piece with a bright red button-up and black and red plaid tie.

“Ah, much better. I don’t know why you insist on wearing all that dreadful denim when you’re up there,” Lucille said.

“I like it,” he shrugged.

She clucked her tongue in disapproval as they walked across the barren landscape of Hell. While most of Hell looked like how humans imagined it, thick flames, cavernous maws, torture devices every few feet, the part that was for demons was mostly a colorless wasteland. Shane hated it, but that was the point. How do else do you inflict dread on creatures that live off of it?

The only structure for miles was a large cubed building with no windows and only a single door. Shane had never been here but every demon knew what it was: the Underworld’s Courthouse.

Once inside, he and Lucille walked down a long and sterile hallway, passing dozens of rooms with signs such as “Chupacabra Reassignments”, “Demon-Human Marriage Licenses” and “Human Possession Applications - Current Wait Time 57 Years” until they finally reached one titled simply “Courtroom 666”.

Demons were so goddamn cliche.

“Alright, I’ll be waiting for you back outside the hospital, if you somehow survive. Just please don’t bring me down with you,” Lucille said, straightening his tie.

“Aw, so glad you care, _mom_.”

“Ugh.”

Shane opened the door, steadying himself before walking inside. It wasn’t like Earth’s courtrooms, with a judge, jury, lawyers, or witness stands, although the terrible fluorescent lighting was the same. Instead, there was an impossibly large (by human standards) conference table with demons of all kinds seated facing a small pulpit. Shane couldn’t tell how many demons were going to be deciding his fate today but it was at least a few dozen.

Contrary to popular myth, demons were a pretty genetically diverse species and this group was no different: some, like Shane, had human skin tones with bits of red and black, while others were different shades of red, and there was even an albino demon seated towards the middle, her solid red eyes standing out from the sea of black ones.

When Shane stepped up to the stone pulpit, a booming voice rang out from the crowd.

“You are the demon currently known as Shane Alexander Madej, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you are aware why you’ve been called into this inquest today, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Enlighten us then, in your words.”

Shane sighed. “I’m here because I fucked up a video spell and let my true face be shown on my internet TV show.”

A different voice piped in, this one vaguely familiar. “First of all, you didn’t fuck up anything, we all know you did it on purpose. Kudos for attempting to lie to a bunch of demons, though.”

First voice again. “Also, that is not why you’re here, not exactly.”

“Wait, what?” Shane asked, suddenly extremely nervous about what they were going to say.

“The video in question is the reason for your inquest, but not because you allowed yourself to be caught on film, albeit briefly. Many of us have been captured ever since the humans invented the camera and the motion camera. I myself was once filmed when I was possessing a young man and a priest was exorcising me. Not my proudest moment, but it happens. No, Mr. Madej, you are here because you allowed your modestly popular, what did you call it, ‘internet TV show’, to become viewed over 100 million times, and that isn’t even counting all of the other videos uploaded by others that include the same footage. Your previous videos weren’t even close to that. It is your failure to quell the popularity of your series and this video in particular that you are on trial for. Too many humans are questioning our existence and it needs to be stopped.”

Shane was floored. Buzzfeed Unsolved being _popular_ was the problem? How the hell was he supposed to do anything about that? There was a reason they were called “viral” videos; once they started to spread, they were impossible to stop.

“I...um, okay?” he stammered, not really sure what else to say.

The booming voice spoke again. “Do you have any suggestions for us as to how to handle this problem you’ve created?”

“I, uh,” Shane paused to collect himself, trying to focus his thoughts. “I could tank the show, leave it without saying goodbye. It could be done within a few weeks. Even if Ryan got another co-host, it wouldn’t be the same. By the end of the year, no one will remember the video at all.”

The second voice from earlier butted in. He realized now where he recognized it from; it was that asshole John. Fuck. “I don’t believe that you’d actually do that. The whole reason you let your face be shown in the first place was your affection for Ryan, correct?”

Shane’s face burned brightly. “Maybe.”

John cackled. “And even if you did leave, who’s to say it wouldn’t keep going? You really think the little human has _that_ much affection for you? He replaced a co-host before, he could do it again.”

Booming voice again. “Yes, while your presence is important to the show’s popularity, we are reasonably sure it could continue without you. It’s your little friend that is the problem.”

Shane had to grip the pulpit to keep himself from exploding in anger, his clawed fingers cracking the stone. “No no no, leave Ryan out of this.”

“We can’t because you have failed at dealing with this. You could have refused to go on those talk shows-,”

“They were just local morning shows, no one watches those!” Shane cut-in but he was ignored.

“You could have downplayed it in your other videos but no, the two of you kept bringing it up, over and over again. Your human employer even has shirts with your bloody face on it, and you allowed this. And at this point, we see only one foreseeable course of action.”

Fuck, already at sentencing? This was bad, really fucking bad.

_Please, just let them kill me and leave Ryan alone._

“The cost of this video’s popularity is one human soul. Ryan Steven Bergara’s.”

“NO! Kill me, take my soul, torture me, I’m the one who fucked up!” Shane bellowed, the stone pulpit cracking in half under him.

“Who is to say we are not torturing you?” John smirked.

And with a flash, he was back outside St. Francis’s Hospital.

\--------

Ryan had a strange feeling about this hospital investigation. He didn’t say it to anyone (little bit of the boy who cried wolf thing going on there) but he was really sure something was going to happen tonight. Not necessarily “catch a ghost on camera talking to me” level of something but _something_ was going to happen. Maybe it was the fact that this was their first overnight since the Grove House and the bloody face, maybe it was just his usual nervous energy amped up by the location, or maybe it was all Shane’s fault.

Since the weird drunken night, Shane hadn’t brought anything up about it, except for buying his “doctor” lunch one day, so Ryan tried to put it out of his mind as well. Only he couldn’t. Every smirk, every bit of banter, it was all giving Ryan butterflies, like he was fifteen again. It hadn’t helped that Shane chose this week to wear all of his damn button down Hawaiian shirts one day after the other. That just plain wasn’t fair.

And then tonight, in the van, something was...off about him. Of course, he really hadn’t admitted to what was bothering him, but Ryan could tell it wasn’t just his fear of heroin needles. But if Shane didn’t want to talk about it, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

As he was deciding that yes, all his anxiety about tonight was definitely Shane’s fault, the lighting rig blinked off and on three times.

“Whoa, did you guys do that?” Ryan asked TJ and the rest of the crew, eyes wide.

“No, but the cameras are fine. Weird.”

Ryan’s heart started to race excitedly. “Fuck me, I can’t believe I agreed to sleeping here.”

The door to the outside clanged open and Ryan almost screamed before remembering that’s where Shane had gone to take his phone call.

“I know what you’re gonna say but the lights flickered, you just miss-,” Ryan stopped as Shane stepped into view. He looked like hell, his face was stricken and pale (well more pale than usual), and there was sweat falling off the tips of his hair. And while his hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets, Ryan was pretty sure they were shaking.

“Whoa, dude, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said thickly, putting on a very fake smile.

“Is it your grandma? Is she alright?”

“Yeah, just...just a close call,” he said, obviously not in the mood to go into further detail.

“We can stop, I’m sure we can get this place again, it’s not far from home. If you need to leave-,”

“No,” Shane interrupted with such force that it caught Ryan by surprise. “I’m not leaving. It’s...it’s fine.”

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind. It’s totally fine,” Ryan said, giving him a reassuring smile. He wasn’t totally sure if Shane was telling the truth, especially considering his slightly off mood in the van earlier, but it wasn’t the time or place to get into a heavy discussion about sick grandmas either way. He just hoped whatever was going on wasn’t too serious and that Shane could power through.

And while it took him a few minutes to get back into the groove, he did, cutting in with comments on the hospital’s grisly history and rolling his eyes at Ryan’s explanation of the flickering lights. By the time they were ready to investigate, he was mostly back to normal, although Ryan could notice how tense he still was.

The first few hours were pretty typical. Ryan swore he heard some strange noises while in the hospital’s nursery but Shane talked him back down.

“Do you really want there to be ghost babies, Ryan? That’s fucked up.”

“Okay, fair.”

But otherwise, it was a pretty quiet night, supernatural wise. Shane talked to some leftover dolls in the children’s wing and visibly blanched at a discarded needle (which, yeah, that was just nasty), so a pretty typical night for them.

“You guys gonna do individual sessions somewhere?” TJ asked as their part of the night was winding down.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. I guess we could go back to that nursery.”

“We’re staying in the morgue, right?” Shane asked.

“Don’t remind me,” Ryan shivered.

“Let’s do them there.”

“Shouldn’t we do it somewhere where we won’t already have a bunch of footage from?” Ryan pointed out.

“Or we could really rankle the ghost’s feathers and then get a bunch of ‘evidence’ while the cameras film us sleeping.”

“Don’t you mean ruffle their feathers?”

“Ruffle, rankle, whatever.”

Ryan thought about it. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of baiting a ghost into bothering him while he slept but they really didn’t have a ton of great footage from tonight. Ever since the bloody face video, the expectations had been high for their Supernatural episodes and Ryan did love shoving evidence in Shane’s face.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

They made their way downstairs, where they first filmed both of them inside the morgue as Ryan retold a bit of the reports of a ghost nurse that haunted this floor so they could intercut it with his narration.

“So, this is where Rosa is reported to be. She was the nurse who was killed by her lover, a married doctor, and is said to be a benevolent spirit who appears when people are in need. Sometimes people even leave roses for her, which I’m also going to do,” he said, pulling out a slightly crushed fabric red rose from his inside jacket pocket and laying it next to a small plaque bearing her name. “Sorry I couldn’t bring you a real one, Rosa, but hopefully this one will stay around awhile.”

After a few minutes of investigating, Shane volunteered to be locked in first, as was usual. He seemed a little sweaty and out of breath when he came out but refused to admit it was ghost related. Of course.

When it was Ryan’s turn, he did a spirit box session that yielded nothing. Geez, this episode was gonna be like fourteen minutes at this rate but on the bright side, at least he probably wouldn’t get murdered by ghosts while he slept.

After they were done filming in the morgue, Ryan, Shane, and the crew went back upstairs to gather all their supplies for an overnight investigation. They set up their sleeping bags and a couple static night vision cameras, along with an audio recorder near the fake rose Ryan left for the nurse. Finally, at around 2 a.m., it was time to say goodbye to the crew.

“We’ll call you when we wake up,” Ryan said, waving them off.

“Sounds good. ‘Night.”

As soon as Ryan shut the door, the _second_ the latch clicked, the temperature dropped at least fifteen degrees.

“What the fuck, do you feel that?” he asked Shane, pulling back his hoodie sleeve to show him his goose bumps.

“Yeah. Probably a burst of wind or something” he said tersely. “C’mon, let’s get back to the morgue.”

Ryan was pretty sure it wasn’t because it remained cool all the way back downstairs and he turned on his phone’s camera to film themselves.

“So, the crew just left and it got super cold in here. Not feeling really stoked about sleeping here now. How about you Shane?” he said, pointing the phone at him.

Shane didn’t respond, standing completely still at the door to the morgue, staring down the hallway that led to a waiting area and some old offices. Instinctively, Ryan aimed his phone to where Shane was looking but didn’t see anything on it.

“Shane? Do you see something?”

“Get in the morgue, Ryan.”

“What?”

“Get in there, _now_ ,” he ordered, his voice commanding and almost scary.

“What the fuck? And miss you seeing a ghost for the first time?” Ryan joked, although his heart was starting to beat very loudly against his chest. What the fuck was going on?

“Goddammit, you always run away, stop being brave and be yourself!”

“What-ah!” Ryan yelled, feeling himself being pushed into the morgue by some sort of invisible force. As soon as his feet crossed the threshold, a large red gash blossomed onto Shane’s cheek before the doors slammed shut.

“Shane! SHANE, WHAT THE FUCK?!” Ryan screamed, banging against the door, desperately trying to pull it open but it was rock solid.

“Jesus Christ, no no no, what the fuck, fuck, shit, what?!” he kept babbling under his breath, his mind racing at a million miles a second. That had not just happened. This had to be a prank or something, right? Fuck fuck fuck.

He tried to call someone, anyone, but he couldn’t unlock his phone as his thumb kept jumping around too much to get a clear fingerprint ID before its battery drained to 0%. Hurriedly, he ran to his bag to find his portable charger but then he heard a noise that stopped him cold. It was a roar, a deep guttural primal roar that he could feel down in his toes. It was the worst sound he’d ever heard, at least for a few seconds until he heard Shane scream out in pain.

“SHANE!!” he yelled, running back to the doors, trying fruitlessly to open them again. Fuck fuck fuck, this was so bad, so fucking bad. He had to get out of here and go get help.

There were some small windows about four inches high and six inches long near the ceiling of morgue, the one bit of this floor that wasn’t underground. They were too small to squeeze through even if he broke the glass but Ryan thought maybe someone could hear him through them. Jumping on top of an old metal examination table he started shouting in the windows’ direction.

“HELP! Can anyone hear me?? I need help, my friend needs help!”

“All you can do is wait.”

Ryan swung around to see a woman dressed in a 1950s nurse’s outfit, with a little white hat perched above her dark, impeccably styled hair. Her uniform was also white, except for a nametag that read “Rosa” and a dark red hole in her chest, but she wasn’t quite solid. He could see one of their cameras right behind her.

Ryan fell off the table.

“Ow, fuck, ow,” he repeated to himself, holding onto his knee where it had hit the tile floor. “That wasn’t real, you’re losing your mind. This is all just one big mental break.”

“No, it isn’t,” Rosa said, kneeling down next to him. “You should ice that.”

Ryan yelled, scrambling to back away from her.

She smiled, shaking her head a little. “I know, I know, you’re scared. But I promise you, I won’t hurt you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Her fingers phased through the metal table Ryan had just fallen off of, the tips peeking through the top. “See? I’m just here to help.”

“No no no, this isn’t real,” Ryan muttered, pressing his palms against his eyes, willing all of this crazy shit to go away. A window shattered in the hallway, causing him to press harder until he saw stars.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s very real,” Rosa said, once again kneeling down next to him. “But you’re safe in here. I watched him earlier, they won’t get in here.”

“Who won’t get in here?”

“The demons.”

Ryan dropped his hands. He could not even imagine how crazy eyed he was right now. “THE WHAT?!”

“Demons,” she repeated. “He must have known they were coming, preparing this room. It’s funny, though, I’ve never heard of one protecting a human. But, of course, I don’t really get out much.”

“Demons,” Ryan said, not really registering anything else this nurse, no this _ghost_ nurse, was saying. Ghosts were real. Demons were real. And Shane was…

“I’ve gotta help my friend,” Ryan jumped back up, hissing when he put weight on his bruised knee. He ignored it, limping back to the doors. “I’ve gotta get out there. If there really are demons out there, he needs help!”

Rosa walked, no, more like _glided_ over to him, like an ice skater. “Like I said, all you can do is wait and hope he wins.”

“Shane can’t win against _demons_! He doesn’t even believe in this shit! Fuck, and I don’t have my holy water with me, this was supposed to be a demon free place!”

Rosa looked at him sadly. “Oh sweetheart. There’s so much you don’t know.”

Ryan stopped rambling to himself, eyeing her. “Like what?”

Before she could answer, there was a huge crash outside, followed by another horribly guttural roar. Without a word, Rosa slipped through the door like it was air.

Ryan could not believe he had not woken up from this dream pissing his pants yet. This was a dream, it had to be a dream. But the fact that he was thinking about it being a dream meant it wasn’t, right? FUCK.

Suddenly, Rosa poked her head back in through the door, her face full of worry. “He won but just barely. He needs you.”

“How do I get out?”

“Here, I’ll try something,” she said, her hands passing over the lock a couple times until they popped open. “Oh no.”

“It opened, why ‘oh no’?”

“Because that wasn’t me,” she said, biting her lip. “C’mon, hurry. Just be careful not to slip.”

Before Ryan could ask her “slip in what?”, he was met with the overwhelmingly awful answer. The second he swung open the doors, he was met with an ungodly amount of blood pooled up outside the morgue. It was coating the hallway walls and floor so thickly that he could taste the iron. What the fuck what the fuck what the _fuck_.

“He’s just over here,” Rosa said, leading him to a small open area that used to be a waiting room. In the middle of particularly giant puddle of blood was the crumbled and broken body of Shane.

Suddenly forgetting that the fucking elevator from The Shining had just opened down here, he sprinted as best he could with a bruised knee to his side. There was no way, Shane couldn’t be...no no no no. Ryan’s heart leaped into his throat and his eyes stung with panicked tears. He couldn’t lose him.

“Shane! Shane, wake up!” he pleaded, tugging on his shoulder to see his face. The giant gash Ryan saw inflicted on him earlier seemed to be the least of his problems. His face looked like a bunch of marinara sauce had been dumped on it, there was so much blood and...other stuff Ryan didn’t want to think about. His nose also appeared to be broken, one of his eyes was swollen shut, and one of his horns had been cut in half.

Horns.

Horns that Ryan recognized in an instant.

No no no no no _no_. This wasn’t happening.

“Sweetheart,” a kind voice said. How could anything be kind right now? “Open his jacket.”

“Horns,” was all he could say.

“I know, I know. But he’s gonna die, he needs you,” Rosa said with more gentleness than should be allowed at a time like this. “If he’s smart, there should be a flask in there.”

It was only because of her presence that Ryan was able to reach inside Shane’s suit jacket (wait why was Shane in a suit? He had definitely not been wearing a suit) and pull out a silver flask.

“Pour it in his mouth, a few sips should get him breathing again.”

Ryan tried to undo the top but his fingers were shaking far too much. “I can’t, you hafta.”

“I can’t, remember?” she said, her fingers phasing through Ryan’s. “You can do it. Take a deep breath, you just have to be still long enough to open it.”

Doing as she instructed, he breathed deeply, steadying his fingers enough to twist off the flask’s cap.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Now, pour a couple sips worth in his mouth and maybe a little bit on his face.”

Ryan pulled on Shane’s busted bottom lip to open his mouth and pour the bright green (green?!) liquid inside. He then tipped a few drops onto his face, just like Rosa instructed.

“You did so good! It shouldn’t take long, now,” she said comfortingly. Ryan desperately wished she could touch him, hold his hand or shoulder or something, just to keep him upright. Glancing at her, he could tell she was thinking the same thing, her warm brown eyes trained on his.

Suddenly, Ryan felt Shane’s body shift. His oozing chest wounds were dissolving, while his swollen eye deflated, his nose reset with a disgusting crack, his horn regrew, and the large gash on his cheek zipped up. His limbs still seemed to be broken and bruised but the whatever Ryan had given him seemed to be working.

“The fuck?” Ryan gasped in awe, not sure where this ranked on the list of weird unbelievable shit he’d seen in the last fifteen minutes. Top five at least.

“You saved him,” Rosa beamed.

“What is this?” he asked, holding up the flask.

“Witch’s healing brew. And by the looks of it, a rather powerful one. Your friend is lucky.”

“...Witch’s?” Ryan said weakly.

Before she could answer, Shane groaned, rolling back over onto his side, away from them.

“Fuuuuuck. Thanks boss. Ryan okay?”

“No,” Ryan said.

Obviously startled, Shane sat up too quickly, clutching his head and squinting in horror at Ryan. “Oh fuck, um, hey.” He then started patting his head until a claw grazed his horns. Claws. Shane had claws. “SHIT, um, um, um.”

Shane’s hands started making these weird, unnatural movements but Rosa stopped him. “Oh honey, I think it’s too late for that.”

He glanced up at her and then over at Ryan and then back at her.

“Yeah, he can see me,” she nodded.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Shane groaned again, burying his face in his hands. No, not hands. Claws. And then a red spiked tail flicked up behind him, like a cat’s. A tail. A fucking goddamn tail. “Ow, fuck, that still hurts.”

Ryan wanted to say something but the words just couldn’t form in his mouth, not even a string of swears.

“Ryan, I’m so sorry. I know you must have billion questions and you deserve answers but we gotta get back to the morgue,” Shane spoke again, glancing down the corridor with solid black eyes. “I got these guys but more will come.”

Ryan couldn’t move. It had all caught up with him. The blood, the horns, Rosa, the noises, the tail, the _blood_...he couldn’t do it.

“Shit,” Shane muttered, pulling the flask out of Ryan’s hand. He poured a few drops onto his limbs, cringing as the bones snapped back into their proper shapes. “Gross. Okay, come on, buddy.”

Shane stood, trying to pull Ryan up by his armpits but Ryan’s legs didn’t work. Why would his legs work? His best friend had horns and claws and black eyes and a tail.

“Um, a little help?” Shane asked Rosa.

“I can’t pick a pencil up, how am I supposed to help you with him? He’s in shock.”

“I dunno, but if we don’t get him back in that room, things are going to get even uglier out here.”

Rosa knelt in front of him. “Sweetheart, you’ve done so great tonight. You just gotta get back to the morgue, Shane can keep you safe there.”

“Can’t,” was all Ryan could murmur.

She peered up at Shane. “I think you’re gonna have to carry him.”

Wait, what? Shane couldn’t carry him. Yeah, he was taller, but he was a stringbean while Ryan was pretty solid.

“Okay, buddy, sorry about how fucking awkward all of this is,” Shane said, one arm around Ryan’s side before pulling him up in one quick motion into a fireman’s carry, with his other arm under the crook of his knees. He then walked them carefully back to the morgue and set Ryan back down on their unused sleeping bags.

Despite it easily being the least weird thing that had happened in the last fifteen minutes, Shane carrying him with such ease, as if he’d weighed nothing, was what finally shook Ryan out of his shock.

“What the FUCK, Shane?”

He was back at the door, kneeling and making strange hand (claw?) gestures. “Gimme just a second.”

“No, fuck your second, you’re gonna start talking right fucking now!”

“Seriously, Ryan, I’ll tell you, I just gotta finish this.”

All of Ryan’s fear was quickly turning to anger. “Finish what?! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?”

Shane ignored him, still making those weird hand movements. Finally regaining the strength to stand, Ryan stomped over to him.

“Answer me!” he yelled, grabbing his shoulder to turn him around.

“Ryan…,” he warned.

“No, don’t you fucking tell me to wait. Not when I just saw you basically come back from the dead from some fucking Mountain Dew looking shit while you were in a gigantic pool of blood and oh yeah, you HAVE FUCKING HORNS AND A TAIL,” he shouted, not remotely caring if he made sense.

“Fine!” Shane snapped. “I am _trying_ to finish some extremely advanced protection spells that were broken when I was dying so that the second group of demons that come here trying to suck out your soul think this is just a solid concrete wall. And yes, I’m a demon too. Fucking happy?”

He turned back around to finish...doing that while Ryan just stood.

_I’m a demon too._

As soon as he’d seen the horns tonight, he knew, but to hear it, to have the confirmation, it shredded him.

Demons were real. And Shane was one of them.

Ryan passed out.


	4. Chapter 4

“Ryan?!” Shane shrieked as he heard his body hit the ground.

“He just fainted, I think,” Rosa said, rematerializing. “It’s a lot for a human to take in at once.”

Shane pulled out his witch’s brew but Rosa laid a hand on his shoulder. Well, sort of, it was half on, half in. “You should finish up first.”

Biting his lip, he realized she was right. “Good idea.”

Quickly, Shane got back to his protective spellwork, casting as deliberately and carefully as he ever had, retracing his steps from earlier in the night to make sure it worked again. Once he was sure they were safe, he reglamoured himself to make him look normal. Well, normal to Ryan.

“Pretty sure the cat is outta the bag on that, honey,” Rosa said with a skeptical eyebrow.

“I know, but he shouldn’t have to see all...that,” he said, vaguely motioning to himself before kneeling down by him.

“Hey, before you wake him up...does Hell really want his soul?”

“Yeah,” Shane said heavily. “It’s my fault, I fucked up and this is how they’re punishing me.”

“He must mean a lot to you then.”  
  
Shane brushed a small piece of misplaced hair out Ryan’s face. “He does.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, let you know if something pops up,” she said, slowly ascending towards the ceiling.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding at her. “For looking out for him. And me.”

“It’s what I do,” she smiled before disappearing.

Shane turned his attention back towards Ryan, pouring the smallest drop of the witch’s brew onto his lips.

A second later, Ryan gasped awake, scrambling to sit up. He was clutching his heart, staring wildly around the room and at Shane. Breathing a sigh of relief, he started laughing uncontrollably.

“Holy shit, dude, I had _the_ most fucked up dream. There was a ghost, an actual ghost, and she was really nice? I fell off the table when I saw her and hurt my knee, though. And then there was all this blood out in the hallway, and you! You were a demon! And you’d fought all these other demons, I guess? I dunno, you were almost dead but the nice ghost nurse helped me save you with a witch potion thing. It was fucking crazy, dude.”

For a second, Shane almost went along with it. He almost agreed, laughing along with Ryan and telling him to go back to sleep. But he couldn’t keep lying, not to him. Not now, with his soul in danger. It wasn’t fair.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Shane said quietly.

Ryan’s laughter stopped. “Y-yeah it was. My knee doesn’t hurt anymore, that means it was all in the dream.”

Shane shook the flask. “Witch healing potion must’ve fixed it up. I’m sorry, but everything you just said actually happened.”

“Even the demon part?” he whispered just loud enough to hear and Shane’s heart clenched.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. “I’m so sorry, Ryan.”

The air between them stilled, heavy with Shane’s confession. Ryan’s eyebrows had knitted together, trying to come to terms with it, anger and confusion and betrayal wafting off of him. Off anyone else, Shane would be eating that energy up, but from Ryan? He hated it. He never wanted to sense it again.

“Fuck you. And fuck your ‘sorry’,” he growled, scooting backwards away from Shane.

He deserved that. Frankly, he deserved worse. “I know you must have a billion questions. I’ll tell you anything, everything, you want to know.”

“Why would I believe _anything_ you have to say?” he snorted derisively.

“I guess you wouldn’t. And that’s fair. But,” he turned to Ryan, keeping his distance but facing him so he could try to prove he was telling the truth. “I’m done keeping you in the dark. No more bullshit, I promise you.”

“Then why are you hiding your….,” Ryan pointed his index fingers up on either side of his head, not able to bring himself to say “horns.” It was painfully cute, even though the tension between them was fraught.

“I didn’t want to freak you out anymore than you already are.”

“I want to see them, see the real _you_ ,” he demanded like it was a dare.

“I’ve still got blood and guts on me, are you sure?”

Ryan bit his lip, like he was having second thoughts before nodding his head. “Yeah, show me. No more in the dark, right? I can handle it.”

Shane was not really sure about the last part of that, but he’d promised, so with a couple clicks of his fingers, his appearance spell faded away, restoring his horns, his tail, his claws, his black eyes, and the disgusting bloody mess that was his best suit.

“Ta-da,” he said weakly, doing jazz hands, trying to make it less terrible than it was.

Ryan looked like was about to barf, his skin sweaty and wan, but he was keeping it together. “How do you do that?”

“Spells. That’s how this room is protected, too.”

“Wait, you’re like...fuckin’ Harry Potter?” Ryan shook his head in disbelief.

“I don’t have a wand or pet owl,” he shrugged. “We store energy that can be redirected into magic.”

“What kind of energy?”

Ugh, at this already? Goddammit. Shane sighed. “Dread, misery, unhappiness, fear, that kind of energy.”

Ryan’s head snapped up, narrowing his eyes at him. “Fear? Like _my_ fear?”

Shane nodded, waiting for a well-deserved string of “fuck you”’s but what came was even worse.

“So, that’s all I am to you? A walking power source?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide his hurt.

“No! No, Ryan, I swear to you. When this started, when I started working at Buzzfeed and with you, yeah, that _was_ part of it. We’d never had a demon on a ghost hunting show before, not on-camera, and my boss thought it was finally time to do it, especially since you’re so animated about stuff. But you’ve never been just that to me. I’d much rather crack you up than scare you,” he explained.

Ryan didn’t look convinced and it’s not like Shane could blame him. “So. Everything on our investigations, all the footsteps that you said were the wind or spirit box words that you dismissed, the flashlight in Sallie House...was all of that you?”

“Sometimes I had help, but...yeah. Except for Grove House, that was...that was unintentional. Sort of,” he said, not really prepared for going into this, not yet. He was so sure Ryan would have been asking him about werewolves or Mothman or aliens before getting into all this heavy shit.

“Sort of?” he scoffed. “The fuck?”

“It’s complicated,” he swallowed, hunching over to study his hands. “There was this old demon creaking around and I tried to get him to leave but he wanted to go after you, so I had to take care of him. I fucked up my appearance spell, so you seeing me, all of that was an accident. The footage, though. That was me. I left it in there, on purpose.”

“Why?”

“I wanted you to have some evidence, _real_ evidence. I had no idea it would be such a shitshow,” he sighed. “That episode being so popular, that’s why those demons came here tonight. They’re punishing me for letting it blow up.”

“But wait,” Ryan said, furrowing his brow. “You said they were here to suck out _my_ soul.”

Shit, he had said that. “Right. They’re all pissed off because of how popular Unsolved got because of it and they, unfortunately, blame you. And…,” he trailed off, not really sure how to explain the other reason.

“And what?”

Shane took a deep breath. “Going after you is an excellent way to torture me.”

“Why, because I’m such a good magic source for you?” Ryan spat.

“Jesus, Ryan, no, don’t you get it?” he said, finally lifting his head so he could look him in the eyes. “Because I’m in love with you.”

Well, there they were. All of Shane’s cards out on the table, he had no more secrets left. It was freeing, in a way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone so long without lying.

Ryan’s face was inscrutable, although Shane could tell his heart rate was accelerating. “You said no more bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit.”

Something in Ryan broke. It was too many revelations, too many final straws. He started laughing, but there was no joy or humor behind his guffaws. It was a dark, bitter laughter, and nothing like the one that Shane loved so much.

He hated himself for doing this to him.

“So, let me get this straight,” Ryan finally said, holding up his fingers to tick them off. “One, you’re a demon. Two, you only did Unsolved because I’m really good at being afraid and you, like, feed off that. Three, you kept some of the footage of your fucked up bloody face at Grove House on purpose as some sort of fucked up gift to me. Four, your demon bosses want to take _my_ soul to punish you for it. Because, five, you’re fucking _in love with me._ Have I got it all?”

“Pretty much.”

Abruptly, Ryan stood up and stomped over where Shane was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Shane didn’t need to be a demon to tell that he was fuming, rage and confusion were written across his face like a drunken frat boy that just got pranked.

“Stand up.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to punch you in the face and this angle is weird.”

Obeying, Shane got to his feet, holding his claws up. “Okay. Take your shot.”

Ryan cracked his knuckles, eyes absolutely burning. “Close your eyes.”

Shane did as he asked. Honestly, if Ryan shot him in the face with an actual holy water gun, he’d still be getting off easy. He’d betrayed his trust so thoroughly, and over such a long period of time, he deserved all the wrath this five-foot-nine-and-three-quarters man could unleash.

“You’re just gonna let me do it?” Ryan asked, uncertainty creeping in on the edge.

“Yup. For real, if you want to beat the shit out of me, it’s fine.”

A few silent seconds went by, with no sucker punches to Shane’s jaw.

“No, it’s not,” Ryan said, quieter, the anger slowly leaking out of him.

“It really is, Ryan. I deserve it, and worse, and I give you my consent to beat the holy hell out of me. I won’t stop you.”

Still nothing but Shane kept his promise and didn’t open his eyes.

“Do you need me to kneel or something?” he asked, wondering if their height difference was complicating things.

“No. I’m not gonna hit you,” Ryan said with a sigh.

Shane peeked his eyes open. “Why not?”

“You sucked all the fun out of it. Plus, you’re still covered in grossness.”

“Oh shit, I forgot,” Shane said, rummaging around in his suit jacket pocket for his small bottle of witch’s cleaner. “Look, I know you’re mad at me but watch this. It’s pretty cool.”

He dabbed a few drops onto his clothes and skin, and then watched Ryan’s eyes double their size as the cleaner soaked up all the blood and repaired his clothes.

“Holy shit.”

“Neat, right?”

In awe, Ryan reached out to touch Shane’s shirt, running his fingertips over a spot where a particularly bad tear had repaired itself. Shane held his breath as Ryan’s fingers danced their way over to his tie.

“Wow, it even fixed this,” he said softly, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers. Shane was not totally sure how he was not passing out. “How?”

“I don’t really know. Witches are pretty secretive.”

“Rosa said something about witches. They made your disgusting looking health potion right?”

“Yeah. A lot of demons think they’re too good for witch magic but not me. They’re way better at this kinda stuff, and they’re a hoot to party with.”

“Witches, ghosts, demons...I can’t believe I was right,” Ryan shook his head, dropping Shane’s tie. “I want to rub it in your face but since you already knew, kinda defeats the purpose.”

“Well, you weren’t right about _everything,_ ” Shane gently teased. “Lizard people?”

The corners of Ryan’s lips twitched up, briefly. “I didn’t really believe that. I just like to be open to all possibilities.”

“Yeah, and lizard people were apparently one of those possibilities.”

“Shut up, Shane,” he said, hiding a smile. “What else was I right about?”

“Mothman, but he’s not an interdimensional being. Just a demon with a flair for the dramatic.”

His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. “What about aliens?”

“Real, but not in the way you want them to be.”

He groaned. “Don’t tell me your boring bacteria thing is _true_.”

“Sorry, bud, that time I actually wasn’t full of shit,” he grinned, unable to hide how overjoyed he was that Ryan’s anger had dissipated.

“But what about Roswell and the Phoenix Lights and all those abduction stories? What actually happened?”

“I don’t know the full stories on all of them, but government tests, usually. Most abduction stories are bullshit, but sometimes they’re real. They’re just demonic instead of alien.”

“Wait, really? Why the hell do demons abduct humans and make them think it’s aliens?”

“For the fear. We’re always looking for new ways to scare people, to absorb the energy. That’s where most of the cryptid legends come from. Mothman, like I said, Jersey Devil, chupacabra, all us,” he explained.

“Even Bigfoot?”

“He’s complicated. Most Bigfoot or yeti sightings are us, but there are actual endangered apes undiscovered by humans. I really wanted to see one when we investigated them, not even a lot of demons have seen them.”

“Damn,” Ryan said, scratching the back of his neck. He looked to be deep in thought so Shane was trying to guess what he’d ask about next. Goatman? Croatoan zombies? Vampires? He hoped it was ancient aliens, Shane’s least favorite theory in the world. He was there, the Egyptians actually just yeah, used math! What a concept.

“I really should have figured this out sooner,” Ryan finally spoke again. “I mean, who else but a demon could have come up with something as terrible as the Hot Daga?”

“Hey! The Hot Daga is global and eternal and beloved by all.”

“It really, really isn’t.”

“You’re just mad that you’re not voicing Dr. Goondis anymore.”

“Nope, no way,” Ryan denied while hiding a smile. “I’m very glad to not be a part of your demonic propaganda machine anymore.”

Shane couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “My what?!”

“That’s what it is, isn’t it? Some weird code you send out to other demons with cartoon food characters! Like the Illuminati with their pyramid messages!” Ryan was grinning like an absolute lunatic, as if he’d just uncovered the second shooter on the grassy knoll.

“ _Ryan_ ,” Shane stressed in that way he always did when he was going overboard with his crackpot theories. “That’s completely fucking insane.”

Ryan did not look convinced. “Then why else do you spend so much time on something so stupid?”

“Because I like making you laugh? It’s not that hard of a concept,” he explained.

“Well, you’re doing a pretty piss-poor job of it,” Ryan said stubbornly. “I have never laughed at the Hot Daga.”

“That is a bold-faced lie, we have you giggling at it on camera! Multiple times!”

Ryan was trying so hard not to laugh, biting down hard on his lip. “Doctored footage.”

“You little shit, you know I would never compromise the integrity of the Hot Daga like that!”

“How does a really dumb story about cartoon food have integrity?!”

“It isn’t dumb, it’s about love and family and the heroics of a holographic ear of corn and her friends, a can of soup and Gene who is french fries! It has loads of integrity!”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“Yes, it does!”

At this point, neither could hold it in any longer and dissolved into giggling messes, shoulders hunched over, holding their sides. It was so oddly normal, bantering with Ryan over some dumb thing, even during the least normal night of their friendship.

“Jesus Christ, you must be the worst demon ever. Writer of the Hot Daga and in love with a human,” Ryan finally said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yup,” he agreed before softening his tone. “About that second part…I’m sorry to put more on you tonight. I just don’t want to keep anymore secrets from you.”

“I kinda already knew. The other night, at my apartment when you hurt yourself, I kinda figured it out,” Ryan said quietly. “You got so drunk after that guy started talking to me at the bar, I figured you were jealous. And then that moment-,”

“When I got up off the couch?” Shane finished.

He nodded. “Yeah. I was so sure you were gonna kiss me.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, ignoring the flush in his cheeks. “I don’t know if I would have, though.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want to be a creep, plus I could tell you were nervous but I didn’t know if it was in a ‘oh shit this dude might kiss me and I’m not into that’ nervous or a ‘if he kisses me I’ll kiss back that’s crazy’ nervous.”

“It was the second one,” Ryan said quietly, somberly.

Shane’s heart started beating extremely fast. “Oh.”

“But I don’t know how to feel about you, at all, right now,” he added, forcing eye contact so Shane could see how conflicted he was. “Because you’ve lied, not just about being a fucking demon but about all the stuff on our investigations and in the show and I just feel so goddamn stupid about it all. Here I am, the biggest believer of ghosts and demons around, and even though I thought you might be possessed, I never in a thousand years would’ve guessed you were an actual goddamn demon.”

Shoulders heavy, Ryan walked back a couple feet to prop himself up on the metal examination table. Shane was about to start apologizing again, but he wasn’t done.

“But at the same time, I know you just saved my life. And, apparently, it wasn’t even the first time you’ve done it. And I know talking to you doesn’t feel that different. And earlier, when I saw you out there, I-I thought you might be gone,” he swallowed, gripping the edge of the table. “Even though I’m super pissed at you, I don’t want you to be gone. I don’t ever want that.”

Dumbstruck, Shane stood, trying to form coherent sentences but they weren’t coming together. He expected Ryan to hate him, despise him, but, for some reason, he didn’t. He didn’t deserve him, not one bit.

“So, just. You gotta gimme a minute. To figure all this shit out, okay?” Ryan finished. “And if I still want to punch you in the face, I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

Swallowing all of his intense feelings, Shane tried to put on as neutral of a face as possible. “I understand. Take your time.”

An awkward silence fell over them, neither really sure what to say. Shane finally decided to leave him alone to check on their static cameras. The Soul Eater demons drained the batteries pretty quickly, at least, so not much to do there. He had no idea how he was going to explain tonight to the crew in the morning. He was doing all of this on the fly. He had not expected to come out of this night alive, after all, and now not only was he still around, he had to protect Ryan at any cost.

Shit, how was that going to work long-term? Shane could set up the same kind of protection spells at Ryan’s apartment, but Ryan couldn’t be a hermit for the rest of his life. He’d be safe at work and anywhere there were lots of people, but anytime he had to use the bathroom or walked home alone from his favorite sports bar, the Soul Eaters could be on him in a second.

He thought about appealing the inquest committee but that would be futile. The last time they reversed a decision it was before Caesar got backstabbed. He could keep killing other demons but he knew he would lose, eventually. They sent the B-team, at best, tonight, and Shane had almost died fighting them. Shuddering at the brief remembrance of how awful that battle was, he quickly filed it away to the far recesses of his mind.

No, he needed a way to ensure that Ryan would always be safe. That he could live his life and not have to worry about a bunch of soul sucking assholes to pop out at any moment to ruin it.

Sitting down, he started making a mental list of options to check out and people to ask. He’d start with his witch contacts. They were human, technically, and might have some potion or charm Ryan could use. He could also ask Lucille but he kind of doubted she would be much help.

If he could just get back to Hell without anyone realizing it, he could go to the courthouse. Surely there was some documentation of some loophole or spell to protect a human from fellow demons. Demons and humans had been intermingling since humanity began, there just had to be a-

Oh shit. Of course. He should have thought of it sooner, he’d just seen the department at the courthouse earlier tonight.

He could fix this. He could secure Ryan’s protection for the rest of their lives.

He just had to convince him to get married, first.

\------

The rest of their night at St. Francis’s hospital was quiet, for the most part. A second group of Soul Eaters, as Shane had called them, showed up around 4am, but when they didn’t sense them, they’d left. Not long after, a third group appeared but Rosa informed them that they were “Janitors”, demons who cleaned up demonic messes, who were simply dealing with the bloodbath out in the hallway.

Ryan tried to sleep but he never got more than thirty minutes worth at a time, waking up every time he heard the slightest noise. At least he could blame that restlessness on actual demons, now.

Demons. Jesus Christ, it still didn’t seem real. Even though Ryan already believed they existed, to have it confirmed, and in the form of Shane, of all people...insane didn’t even remotely begin to cover it.

And Shane...Ryan still didn’t know how to feel about him. He was still angry with him but it wasn’t a white-hot, burning anger anymore. It was hard to be _that_ mad at someone who almost died for you and then professed his love for you all in the span of thirty minutes. It was more of a simmering anger, like a soup left to cook on the stove. Not in danger of boiling over, but still bubbling.

It helped that Shane had given him a pretty wide berth for most of the night. He’d even moved his sleeping bag by the door, although Ryan could tell by the dark bags under his eyes that he’d slept even worse than he had, if he had slept at all.

Now that it was morning and time to call the crew and hospital’s owners, Ryan realized he had another, albeit smaller, problem on his hands. They had zero footage from last night. Shane explained that demons, especially angry bloodthirsty demons, could drain electronics for energy, so their static cams had been at zero battery since the beginning of the night. Of course, they wouldn’t have been able to use the real footage anyway, but Ryan wasn’t sure how to cover it in the episode. There was a chance they’d have to scrap the episode as a whole, but he didn’t want to if they didn’t have to. He was indebted to Rosa and he wanted to tell her story; it was the least he could do.

While Shane stepped outside of the morgue to call the crew (he made Ryan stay in), she reappeared, as if on cue.

“How are you holding up, sweetheart?” she asked, floating down from the ceiling. Still jumpy, Ryan yelped before he realized it was her.

“Sorry,” he coughed, trying to cover it up.

“It’s alright,” she smiled.

“Okay, I guess. It’s a lot to take in.”

“It is. For what it’s worth, I think you’ve handled it all pretty gracefully.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “I fell off that table the moment I saw you.”

“I meant gracefully in here,” she said, placing a spectral hand over his chest, near his heart. “Many would not have been able to hold themselves together after the night you had.”

He blushed, not totally sure how to take a compliment from a ghost. “Oh, uh, thanks. I wouldn’t have done it without you, though. You helped me save Shane, so I’d be soulless right now if it wasn’t for you.”

“Oh that was nothing, I was happy to help! It’s been so long since anyone really needed me, it was my pleasure.”

Even though she had no body heat, Ryan felt an immense warmth from her. Were all ghosts like this? Probably not. “Well, I’m really glad you were here.”

As soon as he said it, he cringed, realizing what he was implying. “No wait, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not glad you died tragically and are stuck here, I just meant-,”

Rosa giggled. “Sweetheart, it’s fine. I knew what you meant. I’m glad I was here, too.”

“Is there something I can do for you? Like, help you move on or something? Is that a real thing?”

Her smile faded. “Oh, you’re sweet, but no. I’m not yours to save.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s alright. I’ve made my peace with it,” she said, obviously fighting back sadness. Ryan suddenly very much wanted to cry. “There are a couple of things you could do for me, though.”

“Anything,” he said, his voice cracking.

“I heard you tell my story last night but you got one thing wrong. The man who did this,” she pointed to the fatal wound on her chest. “He wasn’t my boyfriend. I wanted nothing to do with him, that’s why he shot me and left me down here.”

He sniffed as his eyes began to sting. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, nothing I read about the history of this place said that.”

She knelt down by the small plaque about her where Ryan had left her rose. “It’s what happens when the living get to tell our stories.”

Fuck it, Ryan was fully crying now. “If we can make an episode out of this, I’ll update my narration. I’ll make sure people know.”

“Thank you. My other request isn’t as big, but,” she ran her fingers over (and through) the fake rose. “Can you also tell people I don’t actually like roses?”

“Oh no, did that just get started because of your name?” he half-laughed, half-groaned.

“I think so, yes. Don’t get me wrong, this is very sweet! But I’m more of a sunflower gal.”

“I’ll remember that,” he smiled.

“Thank you.” She stood back up, gliding over to him. “Good luck with everything. I know it’s hard but I think you both will be okay if you just stick together.”

“I hope so.”

Rosa laid a hand on his cheek, actually _on_ , Ryan could feel it, and she wiped away a tear with her thumb, the nail grazing the edge of his glasses’ frame. He gasped, not just from the sensation but from how chilly her touch was. How was she doing this?

“H-how-?”

She interrupted. “Goodbye, sweetheart.”

And then she was gone.

He immediately brought his hand to his face, to touch where she just had. The skin was still cool and smeared with his tears. Holy shit.

He stood there for a few moments before he realized Shane had reentered the room.

“Devon says they’ll be here in a half-h-whoa, hey, you okay?” he asked, jogging over to him.

“Yeah. Just said bye to Rosa,” he cleared his throat, quickly pushing his glasses up to wipe off his cheeks and under his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m crying, shit.”

“It happens,” Shane said gently. “Ghosts like Rosa are made of emotional energy, they have so much tied up in one location that it keeps them there after death. Most are angry or vengeful, but some are nice like her. She obviously really connected with you, that’s how you can feel her energy.”

“She touched me. Like actually touched me,” he said, pointing to his cheek. “How’d she do that?”

“They can store energy, like us, but can only use it in quick bursts. Looks like that’s how she used hers.”

“Wow,” Ryan breathed, still a bit overwhelmed. “I guess I lucked out on my first real ghost, huh?”

“You did. Most of the ghosts I know are codgy old assholes who just want to yell.”

“Really? Can you introduce me?”

Shane grinned. “Let’s survive the group of soul eating demons, first.”

“Yeah, speaking of...what do we once we leave here?”

“We should be fine with the crew, they wouldn’t dare attack with that many witnesses to memory wipe and deal with. Then-,”

Ryan cut him off. “Wait, really? Why?”

“Honestly? Demons are lazy. And memory spells are unreliable. They'd much rather wait and grab you when you're alone.”

“Great,” he mumbled.

“But after we get back to LA, I, uh, I'll have to set up some spells like this back at your place. You'll have to stay there,” he said, trying to look as apologetic as possible.

“Until when?”

Shane didn't immediately answer and his simmering anger started to bubble up.

“Until _when,_ Shane?”

He scratched the back of his neck, obviously anxious. “It, um, kind of depends on a few things. I have an idea to protect you but it's unconventional. And there's a crapload of paperwork involved.”

“I swear to God if you don't just tell me…,” Ryan warned, rolling his shoulders.

Shane snaked the hand that had been on the back of his neck up through his hair, scrunching it between his long fingers. “How do you feel about marriage?”

Ryan opened his mouth to ask why the fuck that was relevant but he answered his own question before the words came out.

“You're fucking kidding me.”

“No,” Shane shifted his weight, averting Ryan’s gaze. “It's not ideal, but you'll be protected. Demons aren't allowed to harm another demon’s spouse.”

“Yeah, cause I'm sure you guys are real big rule followers,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“It's not a rule, they literally can't. You'd be forever protected, even if I died before you.”

“Good to know,” Ryan muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, so hold off on murdering me for a bit, hm?” Shane joked weakly before clearing his throat when Ryan didn’t laugh. “But anyway, it wouldn’t be like a human marriage, at least not exactly. It's supposedly really intense, for both the human and the demon. I don't know all the details but I'll find out.”

“How do you not know them?”

“Gimme a break, I've never done this before.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I bet you've said that to all the guys and girls over the years.”

Shane suddenly looked at him very intensely, his dark (human) eyes looking down at his own. “No. Demons can only do this once.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes us mortal.”

Ryan was confused. “But you can die, aren’t you technically mortal anyway?”

“Yeah, but only from injury, not like, from a disease or something. I’d start to age, like a human. It was the only way to keep demons from marrying their harems back in the day,” he explained. “It got...messy, to say the least.”

Ryan tried to shove an image of a bunch of demons having an orgy in ancient Greece out of his mind, to little avail. “What would happen to me? I can’t become less mortal.”

“Those are the details I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I have a guess, though.”

“And what’s that?”

Shane swallowed, eyes focused on his comically large feet. “I think. I think you’d get powers, like mine. Or a power. I’m not sure. It’s all about becoming like the other. Like, I lose my immortality to be like a human, and you’d get some powers to be like a demon.”

Ryan couldn’t say it fast enough. “No.”

“It’s a last resort thing, I’ve got a couple other ideas I’m going to look into, too,” Shane said quickly.

Turning away, Ryan started shoving things angrily into his duffel bag. “Good. ‘Cause it’s not happening.”

“It might be our only option,” he said quietly.

He ignored him, refolding a t-shirt to give his hands something to do. Shane had to be out of his goddamn mind if he thought Ryan would become part demon. Just...no. Demons were the embodiment of evil, they created chaos and lived off bad vibes and they were everything that wasn’t good in the world. He didn’t want magical powers or to be able to go to hell or have horns or a goddamn _tail_.

Fuck no. Not happening.

They finished packing up in an uncomfortable silence, Ryan stomping around and tossing camera equipment into cases with little care, while Shane was literally tip-toeing, undoing his spells and gently packing his gear. Once the crew arrived, they half-assed a couple morning after shots but without any footage or anything he could actually say about the previous night, it felt pointless.

“Maybe we can get it again, I can ask the owners?” Devon suggested to him.

Ryan almost told her not to bother but then he remembered his promise to Rosa. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

Once the van was loaded, Ryan called shotgun, giving him an excuse to not share the backseat with Shane like they usually did. He needed the hour drive back to LA to be about drive-thru coffees and chatting about the Lakers’ playoff chances and staring out the window at the sun. Normal, boring, everyday things that had nothing to do with demons or ghosts or Shane.

\-------

Well, that could have gone better.

Shane was a moron for not realizing how opposed Ryan would be to the idea of getting demonic powers. Of course he’d say no, this was the same guy who once brought a holy water gun to an investigation, only half-ironically.

He wished he’d had time to do his research before bringing it up in the first place, so he could have given him a better idea of what all went into demon-human marriages, but he didn’t want to text Lucille while they were in such a vulnerable place. Now that they were on the road, though, he hoped he could get some answers.

_S: I need some help._

_L: You’re not dead? Wow._

_S: Sorry to disappoint._

_L: Look, like I told you last night after it happened, I can’t help you. They don’t reverse decisions, you know that._

_S: I know. I need info on marriage._

_L: You can’t be serious. Losing your mortality? For him?_

_S: Dead serious. It would protect him right?_

_L: Yes but he’ll never agree to it and it only works if he does._

_S: do you have any other bright ideas?_

_*_ three minutes later*

_L: no. I’ll bring you what I can._

_S: Thanks mom, love you!_

_L: fuck off._

Shane pocketed his phone and and rested his head against the van window. It was uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. While he wasn’t tabling the marriage idea, Ryan’s resistance to it was enough to make him reexamine his other options. He’d start with the witches, then.

The drive back was low-key, like they usually were the day after an overnight investigation, with everyone running on fumes. Shane was more exhausted than usual; he hadn’t slept at all last night, forcing himself to stay awake and vigilant, but he still couldn’t sleep even now. Every time his eyes fluttered shut, all he saw was Ryan quietly asking him if he was a demon and Shane having to confirm it, hating himself for it.

Once they were back at the Buzzfeed office and everything was unloaded, Shane leaned himself up against the back of Ryan’s car, waiting for him to get done talking. He’d taken an Uber last night, thinking he wouldn’t need a way to drive back to his place this morning.

“So,” he said, once Ryan had squeezed enough time out of saying goodbye to the crew and finally made his way to his car.

“So,” he echoed, tossing his duffel bag in the backseat.

“I, um, need a ride. To your place.”

“Oh. Right,” Ryan swallowed. “Okay.”

After setting his own bag in the back along with Ryan’s, Shane sunk into the passenger seat. Whoever had sat here last had been much shorter than him, so his knees were uncomfortably pressed against the glove compartment. Normally, he’d move the seat back without even thinking about it, but he was trying to take up as little space in Ryan’s life as possible right now, so instead he sat silently, focusing his gaze outside the window as Ryan pulled out of the parking lot.

A couple miles down the road, Ryan abruptly turned into a fast food drive-thru.

“You want something?” he asked looking at the menu, not at Shane.

“I’m okay.”

“You sure? I don’t exactly have a fridge full of food.”

“A coffee then, I guess. And some fries.”

Once Ryan ordered, Shane dug a grungy five out of his pocket and held it out for him as he pulled around. As Ryan grabbed it, his eyes fell on Shane’s knees scrunched up against his console.

“Dude, move the seat back.”

Shane felt his cheeks burn slightly, reaching down to lift the bar under the seat and ease it back a few inches. “Oh, um, okay. I didn’t want to, you know, bug you or anything.”

Ryan let out a small wheeze. “You’re so strange.”

Shane just gave him a goofy grin, not sure what else to say. They didn’t speak again on the drive to Ryan’s apartment but it was a more comfortable silence now and a small bit of weight lifted off Shane’s shoulders.

Once inside, Shane immediately got to work setting up his protective spells again, masking this place from demonic view. When he was finishing up in the kitchen, sealing the windows, he had to grab onto the sink for a moment, feeling woozy.

“You okay?” Ryan asked from the table, where was eating his burger.

He rubbed his forehead, momentarily squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah, just tired.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No,” he admitted. “Did you?”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Kinda worried about whatever fucked up dreams I’m gonna have.”

“Me too.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Really? Don’t you guys live for that shit, all the blood and violence?”

“Most do. I don’t,” Shane said, leaning his back against the counter. “Lucille, my boss, gives me shit about it all the time.”

“You have a boss? A demon boss?”

“Yeah. You’d like her, she hates me too.”

“Glad to know it’s not just me,” he said, ending with a grin.

Shane had a retort ready but a yawn interrupted him. He really needed to sleep.

“If you hear anything weird, wake me up okay?” he instructed, padding out into the living room.

Ryan followed him with a handful of fries. “Didn’t we just establish you don’t fit on my couch like five days ago?”

Jesus, had that just been this week? “I can sleep on the floor.”

“You sure?”

Shane pulled a small pillow off the couch along with the blanket Ryan kept on it and tossed them onto the floor by the front door. “Yeah. I can stretch out here and be on guard. It works.”

Ryan looked skeptical but didn’t say anything, going back into the kitchen to finish his food while Shane curled up on his makeshift bed, facing the door. The blanket wasn’t long enough to cover his feet, so they stuck out awkwardly. Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished his appearance spells could make himself shorter.

“You look ridiculous,” Ryan observed after finishing his lunch.

“I’m fine.”

He heard Ryan walk over next to him. “C’mon.”

Shane turned over, squinting up at Ryan’s outstretched hand. “It’s fine, man. I don’t need to kick you out of your bed again.”

“It’s a queen, it can fit two people,” he said, wiggling his hand. “C’mon. Before I change my mind.”

Swallowing, he wrapped his fingers around Ryan’s forearm to pull himself up. He had to force himself to not think of how strong and sturdy he was and how nice his skin felt under his fingertips. Not the time, Shane.

They headed back to Ryan’s room, Ryan kicking off his shoes in the hallway. They were both still in their sweats, having eventually changed into them during the night at the hospital, so they crawled into bed without undressing. Shane curled up on the edge, once again trying to take up as little space of Ryan’s as possible.

He felt a pillow slide against his back, Ryan’s usual MO for when they had to share a bed. Shane always thought it was kind of silly, but in Ryan’s defense, Shane’s limbs took up an exorbitant amount of space.

“Shane?” Ryan said, voice half-muffled by his pillow.

“Hm?”

“I’m still mad at you”

Shane pressed his nose as hard against the pillow as possible, hoping it would swallow him up. “I know.”

“But I’m glad you’re here.”

He didn’t know how to properly respond to that so he just murmured a barely distinguishable “thanks” before burying his face further into the pillow. Ryan’s soul was too good to be taken. If marriage was out, he was going to do whatever it took to save him, no matter the cost.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: descriptions of gore/violence. Skip the italicized section if that's not for you!

They slept off and on the rest of the day. Every time Ryan woke up, he was sure this was going to be it, he was going to stay awake and take a shower and be a person, but then his eyes would close and suddenly, it was an hour later. It didn’t help that Shane was a pretty active sleeper and today he was more active than usual, twitching, mumbling, rolling over. At least he didn’t kick him with those beanstalks he called legs.

When he finally forced himself to get up and stay awake, the sun was low, and Shane was out of bed. Still half-asleep, he shuffled towards the bathroom to take a shower but he paused, smelling bacon cooking. What?

He stepped into his kitchen to find Shane standing over a sizzling pan of bacon, his hair sticking up in a dozen more ways than usual.

“Hey.”

Shane jumped, obviously startled. “Oh hey. G‘Morning. Or g’evening, I guess.” He stepped aside to show a plate of already cooked bacon resting on the counter. “I made plenty, help yourself.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said, picking up a slice and taking a bite. It was pretty good, not too crisp, not too chewy. “You been awake long?”

“Not really. Just had a hankerin’ for some bacon and your fridge delivered,” he said before quickly adding. “I hope that’s okay. I’ll buy some more.”

“It’s fine.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah. Had a couple weird dreams but they weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be,” he said, grabbing a second piece of bacon. “You?”

“Slept like a baby,” Shane claimed, unconvincingly.

“Dude, we were in the same bed.”

“Right,” he said, drawing his lips into a thin line. “Sorry. I should have just slept on the floor.”

“Just keep making bacon to make it up to me,” he grinned.

He gave him a little salute. “You got it, baby.”

Ryan grabbed himself a proper plate to pile it with bacon and sat down at his table. Shane had set out a carton of milk, some bowls, and a couple boxes of cereal as well.

“Really going all out with this breakfast for dinner thing, huh?”

“Yeah. I was going to make eggs too, but you don’t have any.”

He poured himself a bowl of corn flakes. “This is good. Thanks.”

“No problemo,” Shane said, joining him at the table with his own mountain of bacon.

After a few minutes of stuffing their faces (Ryan hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating), Shane spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Last night, did you say you thought I was possessed?”

Ryan sighed, dropping his spoon in his mostly empty cereal bowl. “Yeah. It was this whole dumb theory I had about you at Grove House. I even had a big ass file on my phone about it. Swing and a miss there, huh?”

“Not really. Possession is real, if rare, I can see why you thought of it. More of a half-court hit than a swing a miss.”

Ryan stared at him disbelievingly, a wheeze escaping his lips. “That’s not...baseball isn’t on a _court._ ”

Shane shrugged. “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

He shook his head, still stuck on him not knowing the extreme basics of baseball before his brain circled back to something else Shane had said. “So, possessions are real? Like straight up The Exorcist shit?”

“Yeah, pretty rare though. Most exorcisms that get performed on humans who are sick, which is pretty fucked up on you guys’ part,” he said, pointing a piece of bacon at Ryan. “But some are real. Some demons really get off on it, taking over a human, but I never got the appeal.”

Well, that answered his next question, hopefully. “So, you’ve never…?”

Shane shook his head resolutely. “No. I like scaring humans, sure, but that’s on a different level. It’s so violating and weird and getting exorcised is supposed to be super duper painful. No thank you to all of that.”

“So, holy water and crosses, all of that works?” he asked, trying to temper his enthusiasm. He’d been so mad at Shane for being a demon, he forgot that now he could know _everything_ about demons.

“Sort of. The holy water has to be really pure and not diluted by little plastic water guns,” he smirked.

“Oh shut up.”

“As for the rest, it depends. We’ve gotten immune to most things, just having been alive for so long, but for holy water and the like, they have to be wielded by truly pure people of heart. Not a lot of those around.”

“What about Father Thomas? Could he hurt you if he knew who you were?”

“Yeah, I think so. He’s legit, at least with exorcisms. Not so much with me, obviously,” he grinned in spite of himself. “I don’t really know what the parameters are for it but I also don’t usually fuck with priests and other people with large supplies of holy water at their disposal.”

“Yeah, you just fuck with me instead.”

Ryan meant it as a joke, a prickly barb that would set off some typical banter, but it came out bitter and resentful.

Shane set his spoon down and clasped his hands together in front of his face, elbows on the table. “It’s not...I don’t. I don’t fuck with you to hurt you, you know that right?”

“But making me look like a fucking idiot is okay?” Ryan asked, his simmering anger starting to boil up again.

“I shoot all our evidence down because you’re the _opposite_ of an idiot. People, humans, you guys can’t know that we’re real so I have to shit all over your evidence,” Shane said, trying to keep his tone even but Ryan could tell he was starting to get annoyed.

“But everything we’ve ever caught was you! You set up all the footsteps and creepy voices and flashlights turning off and on, all just to get me worked up for your magical energy bullshit. Our entire show has been a lie, thanks to you,” he sneered. Fuck it, he was mad, and he wasn’t going to try and hide it.

Shane hunched forward, setting his folded hands down on the table. “First of all, you get worked up without any help from me all the time. Remember the London Tombs? Footsteps and that light turning on, yeah, those were me. You losing your goddamn mind going through the maze? All you. Secondly, I am sorry I lied to you, but what was I supposed to do? ‘Hi, Ryan, my name’s Shane and I’m a demon!’” he mocked, putting on a stupid voice before continuing. “But I’m not sorry for scaring you when we’re on investigations. And I’m not sorry for playing the asshole skeptic. Because if I hadn’t, Unsolved wouldn’t have been able to stay on and doing this show...yesterday in the van, that wasn’t a lie. I love doing it with you. It’s been the best couple years of my life and I’ve lived a really long time.”

A tense and stubborn fog settled between them. Ryan stared down at his cereal bowl, his emotions swirling like the soggy bits of his corn flakes. Shane had a point, the only reason he got to keep making Unsolved was bringing Shane on to disagree with him and make fun of ghost hunting. That dynamic was what made the show popular. It’s why he got to keep doing his dream job.

He’d meant it yesterday, too, of course. He loved doing this show, researching all the old unsolved crimes and investigating strange houses with his best friend. If he didn’t have Unsolved, he wasn’t sure what he’d be doing. Probably still working at Buzzfeed, popping into videos when needed, but he wouldn’t have something that was his own, not like Unsolved was.

Fuck, this was all so complicated. He yearned for earlier in the week when wondering if Shane liked him was the biggest of his problems.

Shane eventually got up and started cleaning his bacon mess up. When he was done and about to leave the kitchen, Ryan finally thought of something to say.

“How long?”

He stopped, pivoting around. “Hm?”

“You said you’ve lived a really long time. How long?”

“Oh. I don’t know exactly, time is a little weird for us when we’re not up here. I think I’m around 6,000 years old. Give or take,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan muttered, his eyes bugging out to cartoonish levels.

“Nice guy,” Shane commented offhandedly, like he was talking about some guy at Starbucks or something and not, you know, _Jesus Christ._

“Are-are you saying you _met Jesus?”_

“Didn’t meet, just saw him speak once.”

“I...I genuinely don’t know how to respond to that,” Ryan said. “You’re old enough to have been around when Jesus was alive. What the fuck?”

“Way before that too. I got to see the pyramids go up. Which, by the way, were _not_ built by aliens, thank you very much,” he said, holding up an admonishing index finger.

“It’s a popular theory,” he grumbled.

“Well, it’s a wrong theory. I cannot tell you how much that episode physically pained me.”

Ryan pulled out his phone and began typing in the notepad. “Do more ancient aliens episodes, got it.”

“No!” Shane groaned, dramatically covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow. “They’re the worst!”

“So, three a season sound good? Or should we up it to four?”

“Neither! We should do zero!”

“Five it is.”

Ryan finally cracked, busting out laughing and Shane followed. How did this always happen? Every time Ryan got mad enough to want to literally stab Shane, they’d always end up laughing about something instead. For a second he thought it might be a demon thing but then he remembered that demons liked all that anger and bad energy, so why would Shane constantly want to make him laugh instead? Must just be a Shane thing.

After that, they spent the rest of the night watching TV and hanging out, like old times, just with wildly new conversation topics, from what were the vikings like (assholes, apparently) to the Salem Witch Trials (not witches, although lots of modern day witches live there now) to Ryan naming every supernatural creature he could think of to find out if they were real (most were shapeshifting demons, to his disappointment).

Eventually, they both got tired again and crawled back into bed. Shane once again curled up on the very edge, trying to make himself as small as possible, which considering his gigantic frame, was almost adorable.

“I can move this if you need more room,” Ryan said, holding up the pillow he’d earlier put in between them.

“Oh, um, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

Ryan stuffed the pillow behind his, against the headboard, and rolled back over. “Just don’t kick me with those beanpoles, okay?”

Shane also rolled over and Ryan could feel his breath on the back of his neck. “I can’t make any promises but I’ll try.”

They said their goodnights and Ryan shut his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him, but all he could focus on was Shane’s hot breath against his skin. It felt like he was just a couple inches away and it made his insides squirm, not unhappily. Goddammit, he didn’t need this on top of everything else going on between them right now.

Forcing himself to stay still, Ryan focused on his own breathing to will himself asleep, and absolutely, definitely ignored all those thoughts of what Shane’s lips would feel like on the back of his neck instead of just his breath.

\-----

_“We know you’ve got him hidden somewhere, just tell us.”_

_“Yeah, it’s one lousy human soul, just give it to us and you’ll be fine.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

_“Wrong answer.”_

_A claw, twice as long as Shane’s, dug itself into his shoulder, piercing the muscles and ligaments holding it in place. He screamed involuntarily, trying not to faint from the pain._

_“It doesn’t matter, we can just wait for you to die and for your spells to wear off. Then we’ll have our prize.”_

_“NO!”_

_Fueled by the purest anger he’d ever felt, Shane’s mind blocked the pain out and began producing the most powerful push spell he’d ever made. Instead of pushing the Soul Eaters away, like how he’d pushed Ryan into the morgue, this one was exerting such force on them that the skin was dissolving from their bones until two of them exploded, blood erupting everywhere. The third one was on him in an instant, crushing Shane’s limbs to stop the spell. But he’d left himself exposed and Shane took his shot, forcing one of his horns into his neck, clipping an artery. The demon stumbled backwards, taking a bit of Shane’s horn with him._

_Just two more left. He could do this, he just had to fight through it. For Ryan._

“Hey.”

_The last two ganged up on him, one going after his legs, the other his face. It was horrible, he could feel his bones breaking into dozens of pieces, his skin being ripped off his cheeks._

“Shane, wake up.”

_But he was still awake. Still had enough juice left to reach into this demon’s chest and pull out his heart, Temple of Doom style._

_The last one roared, twisting Shane’s ankle into new and unnatural directions. Didn’t matter, he had a clean shot now. Winding up his push spell again, he aimed right for that fucker’s head. Just needed to get his fingers to move properly, stupid broken bones…_

“SHANE!”

With a sharp gasp, Shane bolted upright, his eyes flying open. There was no blood, no final demon, just Ryan’s Back to the Future poster staring back at him.

Placing his hand over his heart in an effort to calm himself down, he swiveled his head around to find Ryan propped up on an elbow next to him, his face full of worry.

“Did I wake you? Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologized, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Yeah, you were kind of freaking me out,” Ryan said. “You straight up screamed, plus you were all twitchy.”

He cringed, moving to get out of bed. “I really should just sleep out on the floor.”

Ryan’s curled his fingers around Shane’s shoulder, keeping him from standing. “I didn’t say that.”

He glanced back at him, Ryan’s warm, dark eyes studying him. “But I’m keeping you awake like an asshole.”

“Doesn’t it make me the asshole to send you off to sleep on my floor even though you’re having nightmares?”

“I’d deserve it,” he murmured.

“Stop,” Ryan said quietly. “Just go back to sleep, okay?”

Swallowing, Shane nodded and curled back up in bed, facing away from Ryan, whose hand had not left his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he whispered, reaching up to pat Ryan’s hand. Just as he did, Ryan’s fingers flexed up and slid against Shane’s, loosely interlocking. Heart beating in his throat, Shane brought Ryan’s hand down so that his arm was draped over his chest. He kept expecting him to say something, to protest or make a joke or to pull back, but instead he shuffled in closer behind Shane, squeezing his hand, letting him know it was okay.

Shane didn’t have anymore nightmares that night.

\------

This time when Ryan woke up, Shane was still asleep with Ryan’s arm still wrapped around him. Gingerly, he lifted his arm up and slid out of bed, making sure not to wake him.

He tip-toed into the bathroom and started the shower, waiting for the water to heat up. He had an idea of what Shane’s nightmare had been, that scream sounded painfully similar to the one he’d heard at the hospital, but it didn’t make it any less unsettling. How bad does a dream have to be to scare a _demon_?

Once the temperature was right, he jumped in the shower, sighing as the water hit his shoulders. His right arm was a bit stiff from having it slung across Shane for most the night and the warmth was helping loosen it up. He tried to tell himself he was just comforting Shane but he knew it wasn’t the only reason he’d straight up spooned him. Fuck, this weekend just would not stop.

After his shower and a fresh change of clothes, Ryan grabbed his laptop and idly looked through his social media and email for anything interesting. Normally, he liked to go out on Sundays, grab lunch with friends, go for a run, see his parents, that kind of stuff, but with those Soul Eaters out there, he was stuck inside for the time being.

Eventually, Shane woke up, looking somewhat well-rested for the first time in days. He didn’t mention his nightmare or the hand-holding, so Ryan didn’t either. It was a subdued, quiet kind of day, both of them still processing everything that happened since Friday at the hospital now that they were fully rested. Ryan could tell Shane was still worried about being on his bad side, though; he didn’t say a word when Ryan turned on ESPN.

When it was evening, Shane suggested they order pizza, his treat, and Ryan didn’t see any reason to say no to that, especially if he was paying. Not long after he’d placed their order, Shane’s phone binged with a text.

“Damn, she has bad timing,” he grumbled, heading towards the door.

“Who?”

“My boss. I asked her to bring something by, of course she’d do it while we were waiting on food,” he said, undoing one of the enchantments to open the front door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Ryan interrupted. “Can I meet her?”

Shane stopped, eyeing him. “Why do you want to meet my demonic pain in the ass boss?”

“I dunno, when else am I going to meet another demon besides the ones that want to kill me?”

“Oh, um, you actually already have,” he bit his lip.

Ryan shook his head in confusion. “What? When? Who?”

“That John guy from the sports bar the other night. Grade-A douchebag and demon.”

“What the fuck? And you didn’t think to tell me this before now?!” he squawked indignantly.

“It hadn’t really come up, sorry!” Shane’s phone binged again. And again. “Shit, okay, fine, I’ll let her come in for you to meet her but beware, she is a giant asshole.”

Shane left and Ryan suddenly became very aware that his living room was a mess, so he quickly tidied up, straightening the pillows that had fallen off his couch and rounding up all the dirty glasses and beer bottles and returning them to the kitchen. As he was dumping the bottles into his recycle bin, he realized how ridiculous this all was. Who the fuck cleans up for a _demon_ houseguest? Father Thomas would be so disappointed (and horrified) if he knew.

Moments later, the front door opened, and in walked Shane with a tall disapproving woman. She had short red hair that was slicked back and piercing green eyes that seemed to constantly be one second away from rolling back in her head. Curiously, she was dressed in an emerald pantsuit with prominent shoulderpads and a matching alligator skin handbag that looked like it was straight out of 1986.

Shane stepped in between them to do introductions. “Ryan, Lucille. Lucille, Ryan.”

Ryan stuck his hand out for her to shake it but she just eyed it skeptically. “He’s even shorter in person.”

“Hey!” Ryan said, yanking his hand away.

Shane sighed. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Lucille reached into her purse and pulled out a comically large stack of paperwork and dumped it on Ryan’s coffee table. “There. Everything you need to know if you’re going to go through with…,” she paused to make a retching sound. “ _Marriage._ ”

Ryan glared at Shane. “I told you I wasn’t doing that.”

“I know!” Shane said quickly, cheeks turning pink. “I just wanted to have all the info about it, in case I told you wrong.”

Lucille clapped her hands together in glee. “Oh, how fun! And here I thought I was walking into some disgusting mushy romance.”

Mushy romance? Ryan rounded on Shane, crossing his arms. “What have you told her about me? About us?”

“Oh, he’s never said much, I just _assumed_ you were romantically involved, considering his punishment and now this,” Lucille purred, motioning to the stack of paper. “Are you not? How _delicious._ ”

“We’re not.”

“It’s complicated.”

They spoke at the same time, and their differing answers caused Lucille to cackle like a cartoon vampire. Ryan glanced over at Shane, and he looked very much like he wanted a sinkhole to appear in the floor and swallow him up.

“Oh, I really have to give the court credit on this one. They really did think of the most perfect way to torture you, hm?” she smirked at Shane.

Scowling, he grabbed her by her gigantic shoulderpads and started guiding her back towards the door. “Okay, you dropped off the paperwork, you can go now.”

She easily wriggled out of his grasp. “Aw, c’mon, this was just starting to get fun!”

Shane’s phone rang just as he was about to tell her off. He answered it, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hello? Okay, be down in a second.”

“Pizza’s here, of fucking course. Just...don’t do anything,” he warned Lucille, his eyes flashing black for a split second before turning to Ryan. “I’ll be back ASAP, promise.”

Shane jogged out the front door and suddenly Ryan was alone with a different demon. Shane seemed to trust her, sort of, but his heart started to race anyway.

Lucille rolled her eyes, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from her purse. “Oh please, if I wanted to hurt you, you’d already be dead.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring but he tried to put on a brave face anyway. “You can’t smoke in here.”

Ignoring him, she lit the cigarette and blew the smoke in his direction. “So, why won’t you marry him? Is his dick weird? I always wondered if it was. Or are you not into the tail? Some of you humans are funny about those.”

Ryan’s face was positively on fire. “Um, I’ve never...I-I don’t know what his dick looks like.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Interesting. Then tell me, why aren’t you going to save your funny little soul by marrying him?”

“He said I’d probably become part demon and full offense, fuck that,” he said narrowing his eyes at her.

“Christ, you humans really love a high horse, huh?” She took a long drag before continuing in a mocking tone. “Oh look at me, I’m a human, the species that never does _anything_ wrong, besides countless wars and genocides and the complete destruction of the environment. I’m too good to take on a little demonic magic, even though it will literally solve all my problems.”

Glowering at her, he lowered his voice, channeling Ricky Goldsworth. “I’m not becoming a fucking demon.”

“Oh like you’re really getting the short end of the stick,” she rolled her eyes again. “Shane is willing to give up his _immortality_ for your pathetic little soul. You have no idea what that means to us.”

“So what?” he scoffed. “Humans are mortal, we manage just fine.”

“So what?!” she yelled, causing Ryan’s lights to flicker. “Do you know how often demons just give up and die? Almost never. We are _survivors_. It’s how we can withstand thousands of years of torture in Hell and on Earth. We have fight tooth and claw against death for millennia and for you to think it’s just a given is insulting.”

Ryan glared at her, trying to think of a good comeback and failing. He really wanted to yell back, but he was too stuck on what she’d said. When Shane had brought up this crazy marriage idea, Ryan really hadn’t given this part a second thought, he was too stuck on, you know, the “oh you might get demonic powers” part.

Lucille glanced at the door, her eyes turning black, before turning back to him. “Look, he’s almost back but you should know that Shane is easily the worst demon I’ve ever met. He hates violence and torture and he actually _likes_ being up here. And more to the point, I don’t know any other demon that wouldn’t have given you up to save themselves in a heartbeat. He’s an anomaly.”

“He said he loved me,” he chewed on his bottom lip, not sure how else to explain it.

“I figured,” she retched. “Like I said, just the worst.”

“What’s the worst?” Shane panted as he threw open the door, out of breath from apparently running up four flights of stairs with two large pizza boxes.

“You are,” Lucille said simply, gliding past him. “I assume we’re done here?”

He nodded, moving out of her way. “Always dreadful to see you, Lucille.”

“Likewise,” she smiled before drawing a door in midair with an outstretched hand. As she stepped through, Ryan heard her voice in his head.

“ _Think about what I said, little boy._ ”

With a fizzle, Lucille and her door disappeared into thin air.

Shane set the pizzas down and quickly redid his protective spells on the door. As soon as he was done, he turned to Ryan, biting his lip.

“You okay? I’m sorry, I really never planned to leave you alone with her.”

“Yeah, just got some secondhand smoke. She really is an asshole, huh?”

He picked the pizzas back up and headed towards the kitchen with them. “Told ya.”

Ryan followed but didn’t grab any pizza, instead just standing in the middle of the kitchen while Shane got plates, thinking about everything Lucille told him. He’d never considered how strange it was that Shane, a demon, was doing so much to try and protect him. Of course Shane would be willing to go the extra mile to keep him safe, he was always making Ryan feel safe, whether in a gross old sanitarium or on stage in front of a bunch of convention goers. Was that really so odd?

“She said something to you, huh?” Shane guessed, shaking Ryan out of his reverie. “Just ignore her. She’s masterful at fucking with people, it’s her gift.”

“Are all your demon friends like her?”

“Technically, yes, as she is my only demon friend. And friend is stretching it.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I’ve got a couple exes who keep in touch, mostly to tell me what a dumbass I am, but that’s it. I’ve always liked it up here more, anyway. Way better food,” he winked before taking a giant bite out of his pizza slice.

They took their dinner out into the living room (one of the cable channels was having a Marvel movie marathon) and munched on pizza. Ryan’s focus wasn’t really on Tony Stark, though; he found himself staring at that absurd pile of paper more than the television.

Shane obviously noticed, setting his plate down. “I only asked her to bring me that so we’d know all the details. If the part about you getting powers is true, then we won’t do it.”

“She implied that it was,” Ryan said, eyes still on stack.

“Oh,” Shane swallowed. “Well, then, that’s that.”

“You’re not gonna try and talk me into it?”

“You said ‘no’, so no it is,” he shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve got other ideas to get us out of this, I’ll figure it out.”

“Like what?”

“Gonna go see one of my witch friends tomorrow, she might have some something.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll find something else,” Shane said reassuringly. “Seriously, Ryan, there’s no pressure to do this.” He picked up the stack of paper and walked into the kitchen, shouting as he went. “It’s in the trash. Out of sight, out of mind.”

He came back, animatedly wiping his hands clean before sitting back down to watch the movie. While most of Ryan was breathing a sigh of relief (no spiked tail in his future), Lucille’s words kept echoing in his mind.

He glanced over at him, his long legs draped over the arm of the recliner he was sitting in, taking unnaturally large bites of his pizza, grinning at the superheroes fighting each other on-screen. It was so aggressively...human. But Shane wasn’t human, and for the first time, Ryan realized that as much as Shane had lied to him, he hadn’t deceived him about everything.

Lucille was wrong. Anomaly wasn’t a big enough word for what Shane was.


	6. Chapter 6

There was no spooning that night, although Ryan awoke to one of Shane’s legs flung over onto his side of the bed. (He swore those things had minds of their own sometimes.) They sorted out their story about why they would be driving into work together (went with the old standard of Shane’s apartment having a water leak, although Ryan had really wanted to give him bed bugs), and grabbed a quick breakfast on the way in.

Stepping into the office was more surreal than Ryan had anticipated. It was like a hundred other Mondays, people half-asleep at their desks, groups congregating in the kitchen to make small talk, the occasional wave from friends, but it felt like a Stepford Wives thing to him. He’d figured out how to be around Shane, now, but how was he supposed to be around everyone else?

Shane was in regular form, chatting about their “botched” investigation (“Wacky technology! Ryan thinks a ghost drained the cameras.” It was so hard for him not to scream “DEMONS DID!”). Of course, he was much more used to pretending to be normal than Ryan was. (well, Shane’s version of “normal”.)

Not wanting to deal with lots of questions about the hospital shoot or anything else, really, Ryan plugged his headphones in and started digging through his notes for a new True Crime Unsolved to work on. He should have been researching a new Supernatural location but that was just too strange right now; much better to read about some gruesome old unsolved crime between humans instead.

A little before noon, Shane lightly tapped on his wrist. He’d been so deeply engrossed in the Wikipedia article he was reading that it made him jump.

“Shit! What?”

To his credit, Shane tried to appear apologetic. “Sorry. I’m gonna take a long lunch.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, gonna grab some things from my apartment, do a little grocery shopping, and,” he lowered his voice considerably. “See a friend.”

Ryan’s eyes widened, also dropping his voice. “Oh! Is she a friend of...Sabrina?”

“That’s the reference you’re going with?”

“Shut up, you knew what I meant.”

“True. And yes, she is. While I’m gone, uh, don’t...don’t go to the supply closet or the bathroom or anywhere like that by yourself, okay?”

“What? Why?”

Shane peered down at him, his face drained of good humor. “‘Cause you’re not safe by yourself and I won’t be here to stop them.”

“So, I have to like, ask Andrew or someone to go to the bathroom with me like I’m a sorority chick?” he asked, dubious of how this was supposed to work.

“Ideally, yeah, but I know you won’t do that. Just make sure someone’s already in there when nature calls, okay?”

“Jesus, that’s awkward,” he grumbled. “But fine.”

“Better awkward than without a soul!” Shane said with a wink and some finger guns. Ryan didn’t laugh.

Shane headed out shortly after. As he was leaving, he caught Ryan’s eye, giving him a tight smile, and suddenly, Ryan felt very alone. Besides the few minutes with Lucille yesterday, this was the first time he and Shane had been separated since the hospital. Ryan thought he’d be itching to be rid of him, to be able to have a sense of normalcy, but as soon as he disappeared out the office door, he felt a pang in his gut.

Sighing, he rubbed his hands over his face. Get it together, Ryan. He’ll be back, and he’ll have some witchy amulet or potion or something and all this will be over.

After lunch, Ryan started watching the bathroom, feeling like a complete and utter creep, waiting to follow someone in. Finally, one of the graphics dudes ambled in and Ryan followed, walking so fast that he got some stares on the way. Whatever, he really had to go.

Once inside, Ryan realized that the graphics dude was just washing his hands and already heading back out, but fuck it, he had to go and how could a demon appear that quickly anyway? Still, Ryan peed faster than he had ever had, just to be on the safe side, but nothing happened. Fears assuaged, he went about washing his hands, thinking of how he was going to tell Shane he was the one being paranoid.

Then the temperature dropped about twenty degrees.

He bolted for the door, but it was stuck, just like the door at the morgue. He screamed, not caring if he was the office laughing stock, but no one came.  

“Aw, shouldn’t you know by now how these spells work?” a vaguely familiar voice asked from behind him.

Ryan swiveled around, heart thundering against his chest. Leaning against the bathroom sinks was...John. That guy from the sports bar that Shane hated. No, wait, that _demon_ from the sports bar that Shane hated.

No no no no no no.

“S-stay the fuck away from me,” Ryan demanded, voice shaking.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here for your soul. At least, not yet,” he smirked. “I’m here to help you.”

“F-fuck off.”

“Ah, humans. So rude,” he shook his head. “Trust me, you definitely want to hear what I have to say.”

“No, I don’t!” he yelled, trying to regain some composure. Sweat was already forming on his forehead and his fingers would not stop trembling, so it was a mostly futile effort.

John inhaled deeply with a happy sigh. “You are quite something when you’re scared, hm? I’ve seen your little videos, but in person it’s even better. No wonder he’s trying so hard to save you. Too bad he’s doomed to fail.”

Ryan was pretty sure he was on the verge of an actual heart attack. “W-what?”

“Oh sure, you could stay locked up in your apartment for the rest of your life, with only Shane, never going anywhere by yourself ever again, but you’d slip up. I mean, you already have and he’s been gone, what, an hour?”

“Fuck you, he’ll find something.”

“What, from his little witchy friends?” he laughed, a cruel and terrible cackle. “Please. A few barely magical humans who spend their time concocting enchanted moonshine are hardly a threat. No no no, you only, truly, have one option left to save your soul and that’s by listening to me.”

He waltzed over to Ryan, who flattened himself against the door in response. As he neared him, his human visage fell, revealing two dark red goat horns jutting out of his forehead, eight-inch talons instead of fingers, and two gigantic leathery wings. It was the single most terrifying thing Ryan had ever seen. He couldn’t move, not even to scream.

“Now, that I truly have your attention, here is my proposal,” he said, literally drawing up a piece of paper out of thin air. “Instead of spending the rest of your life running from demons and losing your soul in the process, you’d make a deal with me.”

Ryan still couldn’t speak so John continued, pacing in front of him like a cat would with its prey.

“What’s the deal you ask? It’s simple, really. All you’d have to do is make one of your little videos, exposing Shane as the fabricator of your ‘bloody face’ evidence and we’d call off the Soul Eaters.”

“What?” Ryan squeaked out, momentarily more confused than scared enough to speak. “Why?”

“Because it solves all of our problems, silly goose! If you tell the world that Shane doctored that evidence, no one will believe it anymore, leaving us to continue to roam unimpeded. Then, he would be fired and we’d take him back home for a couple generations, remind him where he’s from, while you are free to live the rest of your life without worrying about us nasty demons trying to take your precious soul.”

“I...I don’t believe you,” Ryan said. There had to be a catch.

John shoved the paperwork in his face. “Here it all is, certified by the same demonic court that asked for your soul in the first place. And there’s even a clause guaranteeing your career on the chance you would also be fired. We have many connections in Hollywood, you would easily land on your feet, with our help.”

With a shaky hand, Ryan took the contract, scanning over it. It seemed to be legit, as far as he could tell, and it said everything that John just had. It didn't make sense, though. Why bring this up now?

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s pretty straight-forward. Aren’t you supposed to be slightly intelligent?”

“Fuck off,” Ryan glowered, regaining some of his bravado. “Why didn’t you just do this originally? Why ask for my soul if this is what you really wanted in the first place?”

“Because it’s fun,” he said simply.

Ryan narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Oh, do enlighten me with whatever cuckoo theory your little brain has come up with,” John taunted, flapping his wings.

Letting his anger override his fear, Ryan stood tall, folding his arms in defiance. “This...this is all to fuck with him, right? Asking for my soul was the best way to torture him because it made him have to fight a bunch of you assholes and reveal himself to me, so you made sure that happened before you did your real punishment. You just wanted to twist the knife before you took him back to Hell. Tell me I’m wrong.”

John looked impressed. “Gold star! Missing a few nuances and details but that’s to be expected. Torture is truly an underrated artform and it’s so fulfilling when it’s appreciated.”

“Fuck. You,” he spat.

“Charming. So, what is your decision? Deal?”

Ryan balled the paper up and tossed it behind John. “I don’t trust it or you so, no.”

“That’s wise but it is very real. And it is your only real option.”

Ryan swallowed, remembering the gigantic stack of paperwork in his trash at home. “No, it’s not.”

John snorted. “You would really rather get _married_ to a demon and _become_ part demon and be tied to Shane _forever_ instead of just firing him and moving on with your life? Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.”

“But it’s an option.”

“Yeah, the worse one,” he said, levitating the wadded up contract back over to them. “I’ll give you until the end of the week.”

He forced the paper ball into Ryan’s hoodie pocket. “All you have to do is sign it and it goes into effect immediately. After that, all your demonic worries will be gone.”

Stepping back, he started making hand gestures that Ryan now recognized as spells. “See you soon.”

And with a flourish of his talons, he disappeared.

The door now opened, Ryan felt someone push on it against his back.

“Uh, someone blocking the door?”

Dazed, Ryan moved towards the sink. “Sorry. S’open.”

TJ came in, pausing as he passed him. “Hey, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Funny,” he said weakly, flipping him off before going back to his desk.

He put his headphones on but didn’t restart his music, he just needed to block out the world. He knew he should text Shane but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d just rush back here and what good would that do? Maybe his witch friends really could help them, he had to keep that hope alive.

Until Shane came back, all Ryan could do was doodle nonsense scratches on his notepad. His mind wouldn’t focus on research or editing or anyone around him. He could tell it was suspicious, (a lot of eyes kept flickering towards him in the office) but he hoped the “disappointing” lack of footage from Friday’s investigation was enough of a decent explanation for his mood. All he could focus on was John’s deal and what it meant. There was no way Unsolved would survive, at least not for long. Even though he made his living on the internet, he knew how quickly it would turn. Faking evidence would be it for his fledgling ghost hunting career, even if he did pin it all on Shane. And Shane...he’d never see Shane again.

But he’d be human. And with his soul intact. He could move on, get a new job, work his way up in a studio, start as a camera guy and then maybe become a director. That had always been the dream, right? At least, it had been before Unsolved.

The thought of losing Unsolved and Shane all in one fell swoop made his stomach physically ache. Giving up one would be hard enough, but both? He and Shane were going through some shit right now, but the thought of him going to Hell, _actual Hell,_  twisted him up into knots. Ryan didn’t know if he could live with himself knowing he’d made the decision that sent him there.

He was so engrossed in thought, he barely even registered Devon approaching him, telling him that she booked St. Francis’s again for in a couple weeks, it would just have to be on Tuesday this time. By then Shane could be gone. Forever.

But still, maybe the witches had something. From what Shane had told him, they were really smart and always coming up with cool new potions and magical gadgets. They had to have something. They had to.

When Shane came back a couple hours later, his face said it all.

The witches didn’t have anything.

\-----

“Annie, _please_ , you have to have something!” Shane pleaded with the bartender.

She sighed, throwing some of her long braids back over her shoulder. “I can sell you more brew and cleaning agent to help you fight the Soul Eaters off, but I can’t block him from Hell’s gaze. Trust me, if witches could do that, we’d have done it to ourselves centuries ago.”

“There’s got to be something, a weird old spell no one uses, or some freaky old book that I can find. Maybe I can shapeshift him, or make them _think_ he’s shapeshifted-,”

She stopped him. “You know that won’t work.”

His shoulders hunched forward, burying his face in his hands. “I’ve got to think of something.”

“Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I’ll ask around, though,” she said, patting his arm.

He peeked his head out of his hands. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiled before ducking beneath the bar and pulling out a small bottle of amber liquid. “Here, take more of this to extend your days. Give you some more time to think.”

Shane held out his arm, ready for her to take her payment but she waved him off. “On the house.”

“Thanks, Annie,” he smiled briefly, pocketing the bottle. “Call me if you can think of _anything,_  okay?”

She nodded. “I will.”

He left the witch bar and waited until he got in the car to scream in frustration. He knew in his heart that it had been a long shot but he really thought Annie would know something, or someone, that could help.

She had said she'd ask around, though. And Annie had more supernatural contacts than anyone else he knew. He had to give her some time before giving up completely. What was that annoying thing humans said? Stay positive? He had to do that.

But that was easier said than done, especially when he got back to Buzzfeed. He saw Ryan hunched over his desk, writing something, headphones on, deep in thought. and he couldn't fake a reassuring smile. Honesty was growing on him.

Ryan looked up, catching his gaze and Shane's face fell even further. Something was wrong. Ryan's face was pale and drawn, his eyes tinged with red. Shane rushed over to him.

“What happened?”

Ryan shook his head, his voice dry. “Later.”

Well, that wasn't good.

Shane texted him, asking if he wanted to talk this way but he just shook his head again.

This was extremely not good.

The last couple hours were some of the slowest in Shane's six thousand years. His eyes kept flickering to Ryan but he didn't react. Shane was losing his mind with worst case scenarios: had the Soul Eaters called him? Threatened him? Threatened his family? Or had they just done something first? If something happened to Ryan's family...Shane almost made himself sick thinking about it.

When it was time to go home, Shane practically sprinted to Ryan's car, waiting for him to start talking, to tell him what happened, but once they were both inside (and Ryan had readjusted the seat from Shane driving it), Ryan only said one thing.

“Did they have something?”

“No, but she's gonna make some calls, see if she can find someone who does.”

Ryan's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white but he didn't speak.

“Ryan, what-,”

“Not now.”

Fuck.

The rest of the drive was spent in stony, tense silence that continued until they got back inside Ryan's apartment. Shane quickly did his protective spells but when he turned around, Ryan wasn't in the living room.

“Ryan?”

“Kitchen.”

He followed his voice to find him sitting at the table, his fingers interlaced on the back of his neck, studying the wood grain of the table’s surface.

“So, honey, how was your day?” he said, in an old timey affected accent, trying to lighten the mood.

“John came to see me,” he said, not looking up.

“John who-,” Shane stopped, answering his own question. Oh that motherfucker. He rushed to join Ryan at the table, grabbing his shoulder. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Ryan shook his head. “You were right, he caught me in the bathroom.”

“Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you, this is my fault,” he apologized.

“You can't be around twenty-four seven,” he said, dropping his hands and leaning back in his chair. “It would have happened eventually.”

“Did he threaten you? Your family? I'll fucking rip his guts out if he did,” Shane snarled.

“The opposite, actually,” he smiled grimly, pulling a wadded up piece of paper out of his hoodie pocket and tossing it on the table. “He made me a deal.”

All of the moisture drained out of his mouth. “What kind of deal?”

“They won't take my soul if we make it seem like you faked the Grove House bloody face. You'd get fired and go back to Hell but they'll leave me alone after that. Supposedly,” Ryan explained, motioning to the paper. “I still think it might be a trap, though.”

Shane didn't unfurl the paper to confirm its authenticity; he knew. This had been the plan all along, hadn’t it? Make him blow everything up with Ryan, expose himself, make him kill, all while dangling the carrot of being Ryan's savior and then pulling out the rug and tainting everything he and Ryan had ever done while he was forced back to Hell. He had to hand it to that asshole; it was damn fine torture.

“It's real,” Shane swallowed, unwadding the contract. Yup, there was the court's signature. “Not a trap.”

“Oh,” Ryan said softly.

“Well, hey, at least we don't have to worry if my witch friend can find something now. We've got our way out,” Shane patted the contract, putting on a fake smile.

“But you’d leave, you’d literally go to Hell,” he said, pointing his finger toward the floor.

“Eh, a couple hundred years down there won’t kill me. Hey, maybe by the time they let me out, you guys will finally have hoverboards, _real_ hoverboards!” he joked, trying to get a grin out of Ryan. “And besides, more importantly, you get your life back! No one trying to take your soul, no gigantic asshole lying to you all the time, no demons at all.”

“But what about Unsolved?”

“Recast me, baby! You did it once before, you can only go up from me,” he grinned. “Well, maybe not _literally_ , I think I’m the tallest person at Buzzfeed, but you know what I mean. What about Sara? I always liked her, I’d be honored for her to be my replacement.”

Shane knew he was babbling, but it was the only way to keep his composure. Once he stopped, he knew he’d lose it.

“But they’d cancel it, you know that. Saying we faked evidence? It’d be done the same day,” Ryan lamented.

“That’s why you blame it all on me! I’ll say I did it as a joke that went too far and I didn’t realize it’d be such a big deal, and then you can fire me and I’ll say I moved back to Illinois. Bam, easy, done. In a few months, no one will care that I’m gone.”

“I would,” Ryan whispered.

Shane’s fake smile faltered, his heart seizing up. “Well, you’d be the only one. And that’s okay, really. Make me out to be the worst piece of shit on the planet if you have to, I won’t be around to care.”

“I hate that,” he murmured.

The anguish radiating off of Ryan was the worst energy Shane had ever felt in his life. It was powerful, sure, but he wanted nothing to do with it. “I know, man, but this is it. They don’t offer these deals very often, you won’t get another one. This is your best bet.”

Shane stood up, turning to go to the bathroom. He had to get away from all this, just for a minute. Or five. Or ten.

He took a couple steps when he heard Ryan’s chair scrape violently across the floor.

“You can’t just leave.”

He pivoted around to see Ryan, red eyed and glaring at him.

“I’m just going to the bathroom.”

“You know what I mean,” he snapped. “You can’t just leave _me._  Not after everything that’s happened.”

“Ryan, it’s the only way,” he said quietly.

He pointed to the trash can where they both knew all of Lucille’s paperwork was. “No, it’s not.”

Shane shook his head furiously. “No. I won’t ask you to do that, not again. I was a fucking idiot for doing it in the first place.”

“But it’d save you. You wouldn’t have to go hell and be stuck with heroin needles all the time!”

“Figured out where that comes from, huh?” Shane drew his lips into a tight smile. “Ryan, seriously, do not worry about me. I’ll be fine, eventually. You need to do what’s best for you, what _you_ want.”

He turned back around, swallowing the frog in his throat. He just needed to get to the bathroom, then he could let it out. Jesus Christ, he really was the worst demon, who else has to go cry in a bathroom? Lucifer would be so embarrassed.

But Ryan pushed past him, blocking him from going down his hallway.

“What are you doing?”

“What _I_ want.”

And in one swift motion, Ryan reached up to grab Shane’s face, pulling it down to press his lips against his. His hands, so strong and so warm, held Shane close as his lips parted, attempting to deepen the kiss.

Caught off guard, Shane pulled back, staring down at him. “Wait. I, um. What? Wh-what’s happening?”

“Shut _up_ , Shane,” Ryan demanded, surging up to kiss him again.

Okay, this was happening.

Holding onto Ryan’s hips, he finally kissed back, licking into his mouth, while Ryan’s fingertips eased themselves into his hair. Shane had imagined Ryan being a sloppy kisser, assuming that his brain was always thinking ten steps ahead, only concerned with getting off, but he was so wrong. He was slow, deliberate even, exploring every millimeter of Shane’s lips with his own. And then, fuck, his hands, the way he pressed his fingers in between the soft strands of Shane’s hair was electrifying. He wanted Ryan to touch him all over like that.

After a few moments of kissing like that in the middle of the hallway, Shane had to stop, as he was getting a crick in his neck.

“This angle is weird,” he said, reaching his hands under Ryan’s ass and calling on his demon strength to lift him up. He gasped, clutching Shane’s shirt collar. Shane raised his eyebrows at him, silently asking if this was okay; Ryan responded by kissing him so hard their teeth clacked.

Grinning, Shane walked them back to the bedroom while Ryan peppered his neck with kisses. Once inside, he fell backwards onto the bed, holding tightly onto Ryan who dug his fingers into Shane’s shoulders and moved his lips back up to kiss him properly again. Shane could hardly believe that any of this was real.

As they made out, Shane’s hands traveled up Ryan’s ass onto his lower back and hips. They were still clothed but he could feel his muscles working beneath his fingertips and just picturing it caused him to snap his hips up, his cock already half-hard in his jeans.

Ryan pulled back to a kneeling position, straddling Shane’s waist. Eyes never leaving Shane’s, he unzipped his hoodie and tossed it in a corner, along with his t-shirt.

“Your turn.”

Shirtless Ryan Bergara was straddling him and asking him to get undressed. Holy shit.

When he sat up, Ryan had to move off of him, but he wouldn’t stop staring at him and Shane’s stupid long fingers kept missing the buttons on his outer layer shirt.

“Jesus, this is what you get for wearing so many layers.”

“I know, sorry.”

“Can’t you just abracadabra them off?” Ryan asked, waving his fingers around.

“Oh, um, I think so?”

It’d been awhile but Shane had done this before. Let’s see, a couple figure eights, a few snaps, bend the wrist at a 45 degree angle and….

One of Ryan’s pillows exploded.

Cotton and fabric swirled in the air around them, like a fluffy snowstorm, while all of the blood in Shane’s body rushed violently towards his face. Ryan was biting his lip, hiding the world’s biggest laugh.

“...okay so maybe not.”

Ryan couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting out laughing, his forehead falling against Shane’s shoulder. A particularly large swab of cotton fell on the back of his head and Shane found himself laughing too, giggling at first, but soon they were both wheezing so hard they had to hold onto each to stay upright.

When Ryan finally had enough control of himself to speak again, he sighed, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You are the worst fucking demon.”

“Pretty much,” Shane said, flicking some cotton pieces off Ryan’s head. “Sorry.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, cupping Shane’s cheek. “That’s a good thing, you idiot.”

Suddenly feeling shy, he ducked his head, still leaning into Ryan’s touch. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, pressing his lips briefly against Shane’s before taking Shane’s shirt buttons into his own hands. Shane watched him, his breath catching his throat as Ryan’s strong, steady fingers undid his buttons. When the last one was done, he helped him shrug out of it, tossing it along with his shirts on the floor. They pulled his t-shirt off together as well before both glancing down at their shoes that were still on. Their matching boots. Of course.

Shane scooted down the bed and pulled one of Ryan’s legs into his lap, undoing the laces on the boot. He pulled it and his sock off, letting them drop to the floor, before switching legs and repeating it. It was going slower than if Ryan had just done it himself, but it was more intimate, more real this way.

When Ryan’s boots were off, they rearranged for him to take Shane’s off, never speaking a word about it. All that was left now were their pants. Ryan slid off the bed, standing right in front of Shane, his warm dark eyes gazing down at him, full of want. Shane undid his fly, slowly peeling the jeans down his thighs, pausing for just a second (okay maybe ten) to admire them, before helping Ryan step out of them completely. Now he was just in his underwear, black boxer-briefs that weren’t doing much to conceal his half-hard cock.

Shane slid his fingers over the waistband but he couldn’t bring himself to pull it down. He wanted to, of course, but this was the point of no return. He’d been thinking about this far too long, never imagining it would happen.

“Stand up,” Ryan breathed, tugging on his wrist.

Shane obeyed, momentarily confused before Ryan’s hands were undoing Shane’s jeans. While he helped pull them down, Shane had to do more of the work getting them off, thanks to his legs taking up 80% of his body, but soon they were both standing in just their underwear, facing each other at the end of Ryan’s bed.

Hooking his thumbs into the sides of his boxer-briefs, Ryan nodded at him and Shane got it immediately. Do it together, at the same time. He mimicked him, and on a silent count of three, they both pulled them down and off. Shane couldn’t help but grin; Ryan’s dick was very nice.

Ryan’s eyes went wide at the sight of Shane’s cock. It was on the bigger side, yeah, he could admit that, but there was something else on his face, a sign of relief?

“What is it?” he asked.

“This is stupid but...I kinda thought it might be...different,” he said, red creeping up into his cheeks.

Shane giggled. “What, like spiky or something?”

“I dunno, maybe! Gimme a break, I’ve never seen a demon’s dick before.”

“I _could_ make it different, you know, if you want,” he waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh my god, _shut up,_ ” Ryan groaned, pushing him down on the bed.

Catching his wrist, Shane pulled him down with him, breathing hotly in his ear. “Make me.”

“Gladly,” he murmured before turning his face to kiss him again. Shane’s hands found themselves again on Ryan’s lower back, but now that they were all skin-on-skin, he was even more overwhelmed than before. Shane always knew that Ryan ran hot, but feeling it under his fingertips now, it was like he’d internalized twenty-seven years of California sun, warmth radiating off of him in waves. Flattening his palms against him, Shane tried to absorb as much of that heat as possible, his fingers pressing against Ryan’s taut back muscles. Yeah, he was never ever going to make fun of him for working out so much ever again.

While Shane was focused on that, Ryan snuck his hand down in between them, fingers brushing over Shane’s cock. He gasped, his eyes flying open to see Ryan wrap his hand around Shane’s cock, and well, if he wasn’t almost fully hard before, he was now.

Ryan gave him a few slow, dry strokes as he started working his way down Shane’s body. Shane sat up on his elbows, unable to take his eyes off what was about to happen. With his hand still wrapped around him, Ryan ducked his head to tentatively lick at Shane’s cock. He was nervous, the energy practically sweating off of him.

Reaching out, Shane carded his fingers into Ryan’s hair.

“Hey, you don’t-you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said softly. If this was Ryan’s first time giving a blowjob, Shane’s dick was more than a little intimidating.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Huh? I, uh, I definitely want to.”

“Oh, cool, it’s just I can tell you’re nervous,” he paused, trying to figure out how best to say this. “Which is fine! I know it’s a little weird the first time.”

He blushed, biting his lip. “Um, it’s not that. It’s not my first time.”

Six-thousand years old and Shane still had shitty gaydar. Typical. “Oh. Then what is it?”

Ryan couldn’t look at him. “Does it...is it safe? For humans to, uh, taste?”

It took Shane a second but when he got it, he let out a happy sigh, running his fingers through Ryan’s hair. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Tastes a little different but totally human-safe.”

“Good,” he breathed a similar sigh of relief before lowering his head again, this time taking the head of Shane’s cock into his mouth. Shane gasped, fingers tangling in his hair. His mouth felt amazing, hot and wet, and he was making these little patterns with his tongue over and over on him. Yeah, Ryan had definitely done this before.

He pulled off briefly to lick all the way down and around the shaft, before returning to the head while his hand jacked him off. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, Ryan used his other hand to cup Shane’s balls, with his fingers pressing at that strip of skin just behind them. It felt so fucking good, Shane was absolutely not going to last much longer.

“Ryan…,” he warned when he knew he was close.

Giving him one last suck, Ryan pulled off to bring him over the edge with his hand, his dark eyes locked on Shane’s face the entire time. That was it for Shane, bucking up into Ryan’s hand, he came, his come covering Ryan’s fingers. Spent, he collapsed back on the bed, urging Ryan to follow.

He obeyed, reaching over Shane’s head to grab a tissue from his nightstand as he got near but Shane stopped him, pulling Ryan’s come-coated hand towards his lips. Deliberately, he sucked Ryan’s fingers into his mouth, one-by-one, licking his own release off of them, all while Ryan watched him with dark, hooded eyes. The exact moment he was done, Ryan surged forward to kiss him, sharing the taste. The kiss was obscene and dirty and one of the best Shane had ever had. Now to repay Ryan the favor.

He rolled them over, a small pile of pillow remains fluffing up as they did, and quickly got to work leaving a trail of kisses down Ryan’s chest until he reached his cock. It wasn’t as long as Shane’s but it was thick, much like Ryan himself. Shane wasted no time in taking it into his mouth, working the head with his tongue. Above him, Ryan groaned, sliding his fingers into Shane’s hair, tugging just this side of hard. Tasting precome, Shane hummed encouragingly, curling his hands around his hips to hold them down. He whined, pressing up against his fingertips but Shane held firm. He wanted to do all the work, make Ryan come just with his mouth and his mouth alone.

He licked down Ryan’s cock to swirl his tongue around the base and his balls, while Ryan swore a blue streak. Shane grinned; it was just like when he got scared and couldn’t shut up. He repeated that a few times before taking him back in fully, his nose brushing against Ryan’s dark curls.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ ,” Ryan moaned, yanking hard on Shane’s hair. Shane figured that was his warning so he loosened his grip on his hips just a tad. Ryan kept babbling, snapping up into Shane’s mouth, expecting him to pull back but he didn’t, keeping his lips wrapped around his cock. Seconds later, come hit the back of his throat and only then did he back off, letting the last few spurts hit his chin.

“Jesus _Christ,_ Shane,” Ryan gasped, throwing his head back against one of his remaining pillows, utterly wrecked. Shane joined him but kept himself hovering over him, his hands on either side of Ryan’s head and his knees straddling his hips. Underneath him, Ryan was breathing heavily, his hair plastered against his forehead, and his lips were bruised and swollen. It was the hottest sight he’d ever seen.

Then Ryan tipped his head up to lick some of his come off Shane’s face and _that_ was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Dipping his head, he caught Ryan’s lips with his own, once again sharing the taste between them. When they were done, he finally collapsed, half on Ryan, half on the bed, his forehead pressed against the side of Ryan’s.

They laid there for a few minutes, both too exhausted to speak. Eventually, Ryan turned over so that they were face-to-face, the tip of his nose rubbing against Shane’s.

“So, that was…,” Shane started.

“Yeah,” Ryan finished for him.

He swept a piece of black hair out of his face. “Sorry I destroyed one of your pillows.”

“S’ok, just buy me a new one,” he grinned. “Sorry I thought you might have acid come and a fucked up demon dick.”

He grinned back. “You were just covering all your bases. I would have been disappointed if didn’t have any questions.”

“Speaking of…,” he swept his fingers over Shane’s hair, right where his horns would be. “I kinda expected you to get all demony.”

“Oh, uh, that usually only happens when I want it to or if I’m around other demons.”

“Ah. I still don’t really understand where they _go_ ,” he said, threading his fingers back into his hair. “It’s weird. Not bad weird, just...weird.”

“That’s magic for you,” he replied. “I kind of forget about them, the horns and my claws and the tail. I don’t see them often enough.”

“Can I see them again? If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

Shane raised his eyebrows. “You want to?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Swallowing, Shane moved Ryan’s hand off his head before making a few rhythmic snaps and letting his appearance glamour fall. Soon, he was laying there in all his true demonic glory, dark twisted horns, long red claws, pitch black eyes, and a spiked tail flicking up from right above his ass. Shane had never done this before with a human. He’d slept with humans, but never showed his true self to any of them like this and of course any demons he’d been with knew what he looked like anyway. He felt incredibly vulnerable, like an exposed nerve, and tried to curl up, like making himself smaller would make it all less demonic and awful to look at.

But Ryan just looked at him in wonder, reaching out to run his fingertips over one of Shane’s horns.

“Oh, they’re warm,” he commented, surprised. “Can you feel that?”

“Yeah, a little. It’s sort of like when someone touches your fingernail.”

“Makes sense,” he said, dropping his hand to pick Shane’s up, inspecting his bright red claws. “So, they’re red all the time? I thought they were just all bloody the other night.”

“Yeah. We almost all have bits of red, even the ones who have human skin tones. Goatman’s got a red face, normally.”

Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Wait, so you actually know Goatman?”

Shane suddenly became very interested in a particular swap of exploded pillow fabric by his claws. “Oh, um, yeah. We sort of, um, dated. Once. A long time ago.”

“WHAT?! You’re just telling me this now?!”

“It’s not really something you just bring up!” he said defensively. “Besides, it ended badly. Really badly.”

“That...that explains _so_ much about you on that bridge,” Ryan laughed.

“I wanted to burn that fucking thing down so bad, you have no idea,” he laughed back, relaxing slightly. “Dude is a total dick.”

“I knew it.”

Scooting in closer to him, Ryan reached over Shane’s hip to gingerly touch his tail.

“What’s it like?” he asked, careful to avoid the spiked tip.

“I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s just...there. It kind of flicks around sometime, on its own, but I don’t like, wag it when I get excited like a dog.”

That seemed to be a satisfactory enough answer, as Ryan let go, now sliding his hand up to cup Shane’s cheek, running his thumb under his eye.

“Do you see differently with these?”

“Yeah. We call it truesight. I can see all supernatural beings in the vicinity, even through walls and disguises. Demons have red auras, ghosts are blue, and witches are green. But like, right now, I just see you.”

He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, kind of sappy and romantic, it just did. Ryan really did bring out the worst in him, at least by demon standards of “worst”.

Ryan pressed his lips to Shane’s, a more chaste but no less meaningful kiss this time. After pulling apart, he whispered against his mouth.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For showing me. I can tell that was weird for you.”

Shane blushed. “Yeah?”

“Just ‘cause I can’t like suck up your energy doesn’t mean I can’t tell you’re nervous, dumb-dumb,” he explained with a smirk.

“Heh, right,” he said. “You’re the first person I’ve ever shown all this to, on purpose.”

“I’m honored.”

Shane softly snorted. “Only you would be honored by that.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Compliment!” he clarified. “Your love of this shit, ghost hunting and crime and mysteries, you’re all about wanting to know the unknown. I wouldn’t show these to someone who didn’t appreciate it,” he said, flexing his claws.

“I will take that, thanks,” he grinned before rolling away to hop out of bed.

“Hey, where are you going?” Shane pouted.

“Bathroom, then food,” he said, slipping on a pair of dirty basketball shorts from his laundry hamper. “We still have pizza, right?”

“Yup.”

As Shane watched him leave, his heart jumped into his throat so harshly he had to bury his face in the pillow. He’d wanted this so badly, and now it had happened...right before he was about to leave Ryan forever. Even if he waited until Friday to sign John’s deal, that was only a few more days to soak up every centimeter of Ryan. Goddammit, this wasn’t fair.

After giving himself a few minutes to compose himself, Shane rolled out of bed and grabbed his sleep sweatpants from the duffel bag he was keeping in Ryan’s room. He also reapplied his appearance glamour; tails didn’t really work with human clothes.

He then quickly cleaned himself up in the bathroom before heading towards the kitchen. As he was mostly thinking about Ryan’s arms and a little about leftover pizza, it took him a couple moments to register the scene that was happening in the kitchen.

In the middle of the table, there was a mountain of loose paper with two small neat stacks in front of it, and a plate of pizza and a beer set to the side. Meanwhile, Ryan was standing in front, flipping through a few loose sheets in his hands.

Shane’s heart began to beat violently in his ears, knowing exactly what all that paperwork was. “...what are you doing?”

“Organizing. Why is this font so goddamn small, do you guys not have anything larger than size 8?” he said, setting one sheet in the left neat pile and the rest in the right one. “These page numbers are a pain in the ass to read.”

“No,” he swallowed. No no no, he was not going to let him do this, not when he had such a better option.

“Figures size 8 comic sans font is what Hell’s paperwork would be in,” he replied, picking up another few sheets and not getting what Shane meant.

“No, you can’t do this,” he clarified.

Ryan stopped, turning towards him. “And why the fuck not?”

“We talked about this, you’ll become like me and you don’t want that!” Shane shouted, his head a mess of anger and confusion and post-coital bliss.

Ryan slammed the papers down on the table. “Stop telling me what I want or don’t want! I can make my own fucking decisions!”

“But you said-!”

“I know what I said!” he interrupted. “But if I have to choose between getting some demon powers and never seeing you again, sign me up for the spiky tail.”

“You can’t,” Shane whispered, voice cracking. There was no way, was this a trick by John to fuck with him more? No, wait, John couldn’t get in here. Maybe he was dreaming, maybe he fell asleep after Ryan left him in the bedroom.

“I can, actually. You said this was my decision, right? So, I’ve decided,” he said matter-of-factly, snatching up some papers again. “We’re getting married.”

The world stopped.

Shane no longer heard the car horns and people outside or the soft shuffling of documents on the table. He no longer felt the cold tile floor beneath his feet or the worn fabric of his sweats. He no longer smelled the reheated grease from the pizza or the faint hops of beer.

Ryan chose him. Even though he was a demon, the embodiment of everything he feared, Ryan chose him.

Paper fell to the floor in a muted crash, stubble scraped under fingers, cheap soap floated off of skin. Joints softly popped as feet arched upwards to close the space, nails dug into biceps, mild sweat mingled with sharp ale. At last, lips found each other, snapping together like two reunited puzzle pieces.

It took six thousand years, but Shane finally found his place in the world.

Here.

With Ryan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: more blood, mild body horror

Shane kept acting like Ryan had just made the biggest, most excruciating decision of his life. He wouldn’t stop babbling on and on about how he knew how tough it must have been and how much he was going to make it up to him and so on.

In reality, it was one of the easiest choices Ryan had ever made.

Once he knew the witches wouldn’t be able to help, he had two options. One where he lost the two most important things in his life (Unsolved and Shane) and one where he didn’t.

He’d had a harder time ordering Chipotle than that.

Unsolved was Ryan’s life, his baby, his dream job. He knew, someday, that it would end, like all things do, but he was absolutely going to ride it out as long as possible. It was too fulfilling and too much fun not to. Honestly, there was very little in his life that he would choose over Unsolved, anyway, and then add Shane to that? Game over, man. Game over.

Truthfully, he wasn’t totally sure what made him kiss Shane that first time. Part of him so was irritated about being told what was best for him that he just wanted to take some control back, but it was more than that. He didn’t just give and receive blowjobs to prove a point (well, not since college, at least). There was something deep between them, deeper than either of them could admit, a strong, unyielding force that Ryan could no longer deny. He loved that absurdly tall weirdo who was always making him laugh in his floral printed button-downs and fluffy hair that was constantly going in about eighteen different directions at once. Yeah, he was a demon, but hey, Ryan sometimes wore the same underwear for three days in a row. Nobody was perfect.

And now here they were, sorting through over a hundred pages of a human-demon marriage contract that was going to change their lives forever. They’d moved into the living room, Ryan laying against the arm of the couch, his legs in Shane’s lap, while he thoroughly read through the human section of the paperwork. It was a lot of bullshit legalese, obviously there to confuse and discourage, but the most crucial part for them was true: Once they were married, no other demon could ever harm Ryan. If they tried, their magic would turn on them, disintegrating them from the inside out.

While Ryan was rereading a sentence that used the word “perpetuity” about a dozen times (fuck demons, for real), Shane suddenly sat up, his eyes wide.

“I take it you haven’t gotten to the exchange yet?”

He lowered his paper, peering over the edge. “No. What does it say?”

“'The demon and human will enter into a blood oath. The process will allow for the human to share their mortality with the demon, and for the demon to bequeath one of their powers to the human. The demon will never be able to use said power again, as the human will possess it always.’"

“So...I _take_ one of your powers? That’s how it works?”

“Looks like,” Shane fell back against the couch again with a sigh. “No wonder these are rare, losing immortality and some magic? Demons just don’t do that.”

“But you’re doing it,” Ryan pointed out, nudging him with his foot.

“I’ve got a good reason, though,” he smiled, curling his hand around Ryan’s ankle.

Fighting off an urge to pause their research to make out, Ryan bravely carried on. “So, do I get to choose which power? Or do you?”

“I think it...chooses you, for lack of a better term. It all happens right after we do the blood oath and the clerk performs the ritual.”

“Of course there’s a blood oath,” he muttered. “Why’re you guys so into blood?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Why are humans so into babies?”

Ryan wheezed. “What? They’re babies, they’re cute.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he murmured, focusing on his paperwork again.

It took another hour or so for them both to finally finish all 124 pages of the contract. There were no more big surprises besides Ryan gaining one of Shane’s powers, the length of the contract was mostly a deterrent for demons in situations like Shane’s, in addition to a lot of wordy bullshit about procedure and lists of possible demonic powers and asking the demon half of the couple are you sure, are you _really_ sure you want to give up your immortality?

There was one part that Ryan was shocked to find. The human half had to agree to this on their terms, they couldn’t be hypnotized and forced into it. He really didn’t think demons gave a shit about consent (possessions were still a thing, after all) so he commented on it.

“Who knew demons had ethical standards?”

“It’s not really about ethics, more about the magic,” Shane explained. “It’s really powerful shit, your body wouldn’t be able to handle it if you were unwilling.”

“My body handled you just fine earlier,” he smirked.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he said darkly before pulling Ryan into his lap. Ryan had never been manhandled like this before and it was driving him crazy in the very best way. Needless to say, in addition to a pillow, he now needed to replace his couch cushions.

It was nearly impossible to focus at work over the next couple of days. The graphics crew and the editors had a bunch of things for him to sign off on for an upcoming episode but with Shane sitting right next to him, wearing one of those goddamn flowered button-ups, it was very hard to listen to what they were asking him, especially when Shane kept “accidentally” rubbing his shoe against Ryan’s shin.

In the evenings, Ryan was working through a list of everything he wanted to do before he was no longer 100% human. It wasn’t long, as Shane insisted he wouldn’t be _that_ different, but he still felt like he needed to do these things before getting a little demonic.

One night he went to a nearby church, just to go. He wasn’t particularly religious but it felt necessary to do before taking the plunge. He also spent time with his family, trying not to think about how he would be keeping a secret from them for the rest of his life.

Shane was with him the whole time, partly out of necessity (Ryan still couldn’t go anywhere alone), but mostly just as support. They hadn’t told anyone they were together, yet, but it was a testament to their relationship that Ryan bringing Shane around for a family dinner didn’t raise any eyebrows. He just slotted right in.

When Thursday night came around, Ryan felt himself getting nervous. Tomorrow was the day. Jesus, just a week ago they’d been driving to St. Francis’s Hospital, Shane all anxious and telling him he loved doing the show, seemingly out of the blue, Shane’s distressing “phone call”, their last “normal” investigation. He knew now what Shane’s phone call had really been, of course, but he kept going back to one moment after he’d come back from Hell, right before filming started.

 _“No. I’m not leaving._ ”

Ryan rolled over in bed to look at him, his giant weirdly handsome face fast asleep. He lightly pressed his forehead to his, draping his arm over Shane’s shoulders. Instinctively, Shane’s arm that was loosely wrapped around Ryan pulled him in closer. Ryan only had one thought as he drifted off to sleep.

No, Shane, you’re not.

\---

The next morning, both Ryan and Shane called in sick to work, hoping food poisoning wouldn’t arouse any suspicions. Lucille had offered to set up time distortions to allow them to return back to Earth at the same time they left, but Ryan didn’t think he could deal with pretending to be normal on a day like today.

After much internal debate, Ryan decided to wear his suit. This may not be a typical wedding in any sense of the word, but it was still a wedding and he wanted to look his best. To his mild surprise, Shane had put his on too, the red and black one from the night at the hospital. He was expecting a button-down and chinos, at best.

When they were ready, Shane texted Lucille so she could make a portal for them.

“Nervous?” Shane asked, smoothing down Ryan’s lapels.

“You know I am,” he mumbled.

“I am too, if it helps.”

“Having second thoughts about getting old and grey like the rest of us mortals?”

“Nah. I think I can pull off a silver fox vibe, wouldn’t you say?” he grinned, holding his chin up in an exaggerated pose.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Ryan replied, fingertips fiddling with the end of Shane’s tie. “Seriously, though, you’re okay with this, right? We only really talked about me changing, not you.”

“Ryan,” he stressed in that way he always did when he thought Ryan was being ridiculous. “You’re literally saving me from hundreds of years of torture. It’s more than okay.”

Right after that, Shane’s phone buzzed. Lucille was waiting for them in the hallway.

“Ready to go to Hell?”

Ryan nodded, threading his fingers with Shane’s. “Ready to get married?”

“If this was an old sitcom, this is where I’d say ‘same thing!’” he joked.

“Hilarious,” he deadpanned, hiding a chuckle.

With a squeeze of his hand, Shane dropped all of his protection spells on Ryan’s apartment and led him out to meet Lucille. Today, she was in a similar broad-shouldered pantsuit as the first time Ryan met her, although this one was patterned in a mish-mash of jewel tones in geometric shapes. Shane had explained that lots of demons, especially ones that aren’t on Earth a lot, get attached to styles from different time periods, hence Lucille’s love of the 1980s. Apparently, she’d been very successful haunting Wall Street back then, soaking up all the cocaine-fueled greed and debauchery.

When she spotted them, her eyes immediately flickered to their intertwined hands, causing her to groan.

“How repulsive.”

“Aw, so nice to see you too, Lucille,” Shane said mockingly.

“Let’s get this over with,” she shuddered, drawing a doorway in midair with an outstretched finger.

With a giant gulp and a tight hold on Shane’s hand, Ryan stepped over the threshold and into Hell. But instead of fire and brimstone he expected, he saw...nothing. Except for a giant cubed windowless building right in front of them. He opened his mouth to ask Shane about it, but he and Lucille were both all demonic and it threw him off. Without her appearance spell, Lucille’s skin was dark crimson, while her horns were blood red and ram-like. Like Shane, she too had a tail, but hers was barbed with hundreds of small spikes, not just with one on the end like his. Despite knowing that she (probably) wouldn’t hurt him, she was still terrifying.

Sensing his uneasiness, Shane pulled Ryan inside the building, keeping him close as they walked down a long and colorless hallway until they spotted a door with this sign:

Demon-Human Marriage Licenses

But Shane didn’t move to open the door, instead turning to Ryan and pulling out a familiar balled up piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Last chance to back out.”

Ryan swallowed, taking John’s contract. “I threw this away.”

“I know. But I thought you should still have the option, just in case. I won’t be mad, I promise,” Shane said with enough sincerity to make Lucille gag behind them.

Ryan tore up the contract in a dozen or so pieces and flung it over his shoulder. “I made my choice, okay? We’re doing this.”

“Okay but when you end up with my tail, don’t say I didn’t try to give you an out,” he joked, bumping Ryan’s hip.

“When I get your tail I’m totally gonna stab you with it,” Ryan joked back.

Shane lowered his voice. “Wait, like in a sexy way, ‘cause-,”

“Fucking Christ, you two are _revolting_ ,” Lucille snapped, opening the office door. “I cannot believe I agreed to be the witness to this.”

“You love us,” Shane teased.

“I absolutely do not,” she fumed, shoving them into the marriage clerk’s office.

Like the rest of the Underworld Courthouse, Ryan was struck by how bland and ordinary it was. A few filing cabinets hugged the back corner, while the fluorescent lighting beamed down from above. In fact, the only way it was even remotely demonic was the demon sitting behind the clerk’s desk. She was albino, with short white horns protruding out of her forehead, and closely cropped short hair and a silver fringed dress that reminded Ryan of a flapper girl. She didn’t notice them, however, as she was deeply engrossed in a celebrity tabloid magazine.

“Mallory!” Lucille shouted, stamping her foot.

The demon held up her index finger, never taking her eyes off the page. “One sec. I gotta know why this Bachelor contestant broke up with his girlfriend.”

“Because they’re both awful. Now, come on, I told you I was bringing these two here today.”

“Ugh, _fine,_ ” she groaned, finally glancing up at them. “Forms?”

Shane pulled a stack of paper out from his inside jacket pocket. Ryan kind of hoped his power would be to make magic pockets, he could really learn to love that.

“All signed, all in triplicate,” Shane said, dumping them on her desk.

She grimaced, obviously annoyed that she was being asked to do her job. “You’re really cuttin’ into my reading time, here.”

“So sorry about that, you must be worked to the bone performing marriage ceremonies once a century,” Shane mocked, tapping his claw against the paperwork. “C’mon, the sooner you do this, the sooner we’re out of your hair.”

Grumbling, Mallory tucked her magazine away and pulled out an ivory-handled six-inch knife from her desk.

“Before we commence with the blood oath, I have to check that the human is here of his own free will,” she said, motioning for Ryan to step forward. As he did, she performed a couple extremely complicated looking spells that didn’t seem to do anything as far as he could tell. Then she flicked him right in the forehead.

“Hey! What the fuck?”

All of the demons giggled, although Shane tried to hide his when Ryan glared at him. Mallory continued on.

“Alright. Now, before we begin, the demon currently known as Shane Alexander Madej. You are aware of the consequences for you once the ceremony is completed?”

“Yes.”

“You will not only grant one of your demonic gifts to this human, but you will begin to age like him as well. Once it's done, your body will be like that of a 32 year old human's. You do understand that, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Christ, _yes.”_

Mallory and Lucille exchanged glances, both obviously sure Shane had lost his mind.

“Okay, it's your funeral,” Mallory shrugged before turning back to Ryan. “And you, the human known as Ryan Steven Bergara, you are cognizant of the fact that you will be granted one of Shane's demonic gifts?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, now once the ceremony-,”

“Hey, why didn't you ask me a bunch of times if I was sure like you did with him?” Ryan butted in.

“Because you're getting the better part of this deal, duh. Who doesn't want to be like us?” she simpered, batting her eyelashes.

“Ignore her,” Shane muttered under his breath.

“Any doodle, as I was saying. Once the ceremony is complete, no demons will be able to harm a hair on your tiny little head,” she teased.

“I'm taller than you,” Ryan grumbled.

Mallory ignored him. “The changes you are about to undergo are permanent and irreversible. This is your final chance to walk away.”

Shane flashed him a smile. “No way in hell.”

Lucille groaned at his pun while Ryan grinned back. “Let's do it.”

“Your right hands, palms up,” she instructed.

They stepped closer to her desk, arms outstretched. Mallory took the ivory-handled knife and sliced long cuts across their palms. Ryan hissed, scrunching his eyes closed so he didn’t have to see all the blood, but Shane nudged him with his foot.

“Look.”

Peeking one eye open, he saw that all the blood leaking from their wounds was suspended in midair, intermingling with another, while Mallory lazily twirled her fingers. Once she had enough, she began manipulating it with some actual effort, performing what Ryan could only guess was the actual ritual needed to make the blood oath work. It was macabre and disgusting and mesmerizing all at once, the way she was painting with their blood against the canvas of air.

When she seemed satisfied, she took two drops from the suspended blood and let them drip onto their marriage paperwork. The drops swirled together into a strange symbol Ryan didn’t recognize before dissolving through the stack of paper.

Ryan started to get incredibly nervous. Whatever was going to happen, however he was going to change, it was about to happen, for real. His heart was thumping loudly against his chest and his breathing was coming in short spastic bursts. These were his last moments as a human. Holy fucking shit.

Then Mallory split the suspended blood in two and with a flick of the wrist, sent it back into their open wounds. The second the first molecule reentered their bodies, both Ryan and Shane fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

“Congratulations, I now pronounce you husband and husband or whatever,” was the last thing Ryan heard before darkness overtook him.

\---

“Hm, you’d think he’d be heartier now, having some of a demon’s blood.”

“Yes, but it’s _Shane'_ _s_ blood. You were at his trial, right? You know how terrible he is.”

“That’s true.”

Ryan shifted, his brain slowly coming back to life. Every single cell in his body cried out in pain, like it was furious with him. He tried to open his eyes but they were ultra-sensitive at the moment so he kept them shut while he blindly reached for Shane.

“Oh look, he’s waking up now. What about the other one?”

A couple footsteps thundered across the cold tile floor. “Yeah, same. Christ, he looks like shit.”

“Yeah, the demons always do. One of the many reasons you couldn’t pay me to do this.”

“Amen, sister.”

“Sh-Shane,” Ryan croaked, fingers brushing against his jacket sleeve.

“Mmmph,” he grunted, voice muffled by the floor. “That sucked.”

“Yeah.”

Finally, Ryan’s hand found Shane’s, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything but rest his palm on it. It was still throbbing from the now-sealed cut but it was comforting to have Shane’s skin underneath his own.

“You two can’t stay there forever, you know.”

“Jesus Christ, give us a goddamn minute, Lucille,” Shane griped. “I just lost my immortality and who knows what else, I feel like shit.”

“Well, you look like shit, too.”

“That’s very helpful, thanks.”

Oh fuck, that’s right. Ryan’s head was so foggy, he’d momentarily forgotten about that part. With his other hand, he immediately reached behind his back, above his ass. Oh thank God, no tail. And his hands still felt like hands, so no claws either, and the way his head was pressed against the floor, he knew he’d be able to feel horns so they were out too. Relieved that whatever powers he had obtained were internal, he gained enough strength to tug on Shane’s hand.

“Hey. No tail.”

“Nice. Maybe you got my video editing powers or-,” Shane stopped abruptly. Ryan heard him shuffling around, edging closer to him.

“Or what?”

“Ryan, open your eyes.”

“I tried, they’re sore just like the rest of me.”

Shane rolled Ryan onto his back, careful not to poke him with his claws. “Open them. It’s okay, I’m here.”

He didn’t get what the big deal was, but in his defense, he was still pretty out of it. With a considerable amount of effort, he lifted his eyelids just enough to see a blurry Shane, Lucille, and Mallory peering down at him. Weird, he hadn’t noticed the red lighting in here earlier. Did Mallory have a special lamp or something?

“Huh. That’s a new one,” Mallory commented.

“What’s a new one?” Ryan asked, confused, trying to blink awake some more. He didn’t get it, had something grown on his face? Maybe he did get horns but they were different than Shane’s? No wait, Shane had his horns, he could tell that. He glanced at him, trying to read his face for whatever was going on, but he could tell he putting on a reassuring face, his lips upturned, his eyes soft-

Wait. Shane’s eyes were normal. Human normal. They had been black the moment they walked into Hell and now they were just regular brown eyes. He glanced at Mallory and Lucille, their eyes were still demonic, solid red and black, respectively. And that red lightning...it was emanating out of them, not from a lamp, although Shane’s was paler, less defined than the other two. What the fuck? Had he hit his head or something when he fell to the floor?

Lucille reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a gold compact mirror. “This is,” she said, flipping it open in front of his face.

Ryan blinked. No, no fucking way. He blinked again. And again. And again. But they were still there. Two pitch black orbs where his eyes should be.

He’d gotten Shane’s truesight.

“Oh fuck, fuck no no, fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. He never even imagined this. What did this mean? He would be able to turn it off, right? Shane could turn his off.

He felt Shane pull him up into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around him. “I’ll teach you how to blink it away, okay? It’ll be like you don’t even have it.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Mallory commented.

“Why not?”

“He’s still mostly human, so he may not have the power to switch it off. But like I said, this is a new one to me.”

“So, I’m just going to have black eyes forever?!” Ryan yelled, very nearly on the verge of hyperventilating.

“You knew the risks,” Mallory replied. “Now, get the fuck outta my office.”

“Oh c’mon, ‘cause you’ve got so much work to do!” Shane snapped.

Ryan heard her open her magazine, the pages rustling. “Look, my part’s done. You figure the rest of this out on your own time.”

Shane swore under his breath before looping one of Ryan’s arms around his shoulder. “I’m gonna help you stand, okay? You don’t have to open your eyes.”

Nodding, Ryan let him guide up, clutching onto his suit jacket to stand. His legs were basically jelly and he could tell Shane was trembling underneath him as well. Thank Christ they took today off from work.

“Portal’s open,” Lucille said, with at least half the acid he was used to. Gingerly, Shane led him through her doorway once again, back into the hallway of his apartment building.

While Shane fiddled with the door lock, Ryan peeked his eyes open. Lucille had reapplied her human visage, but she still had a red aura emanating from her. She caught his eye before stepping back through her door.

“ _For what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice,”_ she said, her voice rattling around in his head.

And with a fizzle, she disappeared.

Shane swiveled around once the door was open. “Did she really just leave without saying goodbye? Typical.”

Grabbing Ryan's hand, he led him inside towards the couch. Once he had him settled, Shane reapplied his appearance spell but had to pause a couple times to steady himself.

“You want some water? Beer? Tequila?”

It still hurt to open his eyes fully but Ryan had them open enough to see how sweaty and pale Shane was, not to mention that faint red outline around him.

“Sit down. You really do look like shit,” Ryan said, sitting up slightly.

For once, Shane didn't try to argue with him and eased himself down on the sofa by Ryan's head, so he could lay in his lap.

“Hell of a wedding, huh?”

Ryan held up his right hand where a hard scar was already forming on his palm. “You could say that.”

Shane slid the fingers of his right hand into Ryan's so that their matching scars pressed against each other. “If I knew you couldn't turn this off, I never would have-,”

“Shane, stop,” he cut him off. “It's done. We'll figure it out.”

“Yeah. Oh maybe I can do an appearance spell on you,” he said, dropping Ryan’s hand to start the spellwork, but nothing happened. “Shit, I’m out of juice. The fuck?”

“It happens to lots of guys,” Ryan teased.

“Ha ha.” He sighed, inspecting his palms. “I guess I really am less demonic, now.”

“How does it feel?”

“Crappy. My bones ache and my nose is kind of stuffed up, for the first time ever? It sucks, how do you people deal with this?”

“Cold medicine, booze, naps, complaining,” he explained, reaching up to pat Shane’s cheek. “You’ll love it.”

“Great.”

They sat quietly for a bit, both contemplating their new existences. Ryan kept blinking, thinking that maybe his regular eyes would come back, but so far, nope, while Shane would occasionally snap his fingers, waiting for something to happen that never did. How was he going to live like this? Not just seeing undercover demons and who knows what else, but he couldn’t be seen by people like this. Fuck, he had to figure out a way to switch back...assuming he still had his regular eyes. FUCK, did he still even have them? Were they gone forever? Sunglasses could probably work sometimes, but all the time? No way. Shit, would he have to pretend to be blind? Was that okay? That probably wasn’t okay.

While he was contemplating the ethics of faking blindness to hide demonic eyesight, Shane shifted underneath him.

“Um, Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Something’s wrong.”

“What is it?”

“My thighs...they don’t feel right. There’s this weird tingling sensation and they’re sort of numb too? Am I dying?” he asked, panic seeping in on the edge of his voice.

Ryan couldn’t help but grin as he pulled himself up out of Shane’s lap. “Uh, no. They just fell asleep.”

As soon as he could, he started rubbing furiously at his thighs, trying to regain feeling in them. “Wait... _that’s_ what that feels like?!”

“Yeah. You never had that happen before?”

He shook his head. “No. I always thought you humans were exaggerating about it but this feels weird and I hate it.”

“You’ll live,” Ryan said with a cringe, fighting off a headache from sitting up. “C’mon, we should go to actual bed.”

“I don’t know if I can walk,” Shane whined.

Ryan almost cracked a joke about sending him back to hell for being so whiny but thought better of it. Shane had been a full demon for thousands of years, he could have a few hours of complaining about his new body before Ryan would properly roast him about it.

Standing up, Ryan held out his hand for him. Fuck, that faint red glow around him was still so strange. “I’ll help you.”

Shane pulled himself up, steadying himself with his other hand on Ryan’s hip. His eyes crinkled as he stood, towering over Ryan like always.

“Deja vu, huh?”

“Yeah. Kinda miss just worrying about you kissing me and not, well, all of this,” he said, motioning between their eyes. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about that first one anymore,” Shane said before ducking his head to catch Ryan’s lips. In the few seconds of that kiss, all his anxieties about his new eyes and what it meant and how was he going to go out in public temporarily faded away. They were going to figure this out, together. It’s what they did.


	8. Chapter 8

Shane tried everything he could and Ryan’s eyes were still two pitch black voids. Appearance spells weren’t working correctly (on his best attempt, he made one of Ryan’s eyes blue and the other hot pink), and all attempts at helping Ryan turn the truesight off were fruitless. As much as he hated to admit it, Ryan’s human eyes were gone, permanently replaced by Shane’s demonic ones.

He felt terrible, and not just because his body was susceptible to smog and germs, now. But, Ryan was right: there was no use in trying to change what happened, what was done was done, and they just needed a way for Ryan to not look like a black oil alien from The X-Files.

So, that’s how they ended up here.

“‘Witch’s Brew’? Kind of obvious, isn’t it?” Ryan commented as they pulled into the small parking lot of Annie’s bar, on the outskirts of the city.

“Hiding in plain sight works sometimes,” he answered. “Can you see inside, see the green auras?”

Ryan lowered his sunglasses, peering inside. “Yeah, I see two vaguely green shaped people. One is...sweeping, maybe? And the other is in the basement but they’re just sort of blobs.”

“Yeah, through walls, you only get what the supernatural person is, not who they are. But it’s still-,” he had to stop to sneeze. Three goddamn times in a row. “-useful.”

Shane led him inside, thankful to find that there were no other customers. Witch’s Brew functioned as a regular bar and restaurant and it could be awkward when regular humans were around.

“Be with you in just a second!” Annie shouted from the other end of the restaurant where she was sweeping. “Sit wherever you like, we just opened!”

“Not here for food today, sorry, Annie.”

At hearing his voice, she whipped around, nearly dropping her broom. “Shane?! I didn’t expect to see you again so soon when I couldn’t help you the other day.”

“Well, I’m hoping you _can_ help me today. Help us,” he said, stepping aside to motion to Ryan. “Ryan, this is Annie, the most talented and gorgeous witch on the west coast. Annie, this is Ryan, my…uh, Ryan.”

He wasn’t sure how to introduce him. Coworker was way too impersonal, husband was technically accurate but only in the complicated, demonic way, friend wasn’t enough, and boyfriend...well, they hadn’t really had that conversation yet.

As Annie approached them, her eyes widened, obviously sensing something off. Witches didn’t have truesight, but they did have a literal sixth sense that they used to sense other beings and create their potions.

“Hi Ryan, nice to meet you,” she smiled kindly, holding out her hand for him to shake. “What did he do this time?”

Taking her hand, Ryan replied. “Married me.”

She yelped, head swiveling back and forth between them. “You didn’t!”

Shane waved his right hand at her to show off his blood oath scar. “Sure did.”

“So, that’s how you saved him, huh?” she said, still shaking her head at them. “I never would’ve thought you’d go through with it. My great-grandfather said he knew a pair once, but that was back in the late 1800s.”

“Technically, he saved me,” Shane clarified, smiling at Ryan. “But it’s also why we’re here.”

Sheepishly, Ryan lowered his aviators until they were off completely, looking down at the floor. Annie gasped but quickly tried to turn it into a cough, obviously not wanting him to feel more self-conscious.

“Oh honey,” she said, tipping Ryan’s chin up. “And you can’t blink out of it?”

“Nope.”

“And I can’t do an appearance glamour on him with a damn. It’s all I can do to make myself presentable,” Shane explained. “I know you can’t make them like they were, but do you have something, _anything_ that can make them look human again?”

“Hmm,” she thought for a moment. “We don’t have anything on hand but Estelle might be able to whip something up. Do you have glasses or contacts with you?”

“Yeah, Shane thought we might need them,” he said, pulling both cases out of his jacket pockets.

She took the cases. “Great! I’ll run these down to her, she’s working on some magic pen that never runs out of ink or who knows what. Make yourselves at home, help yourselves to a drink if you like” she said, motioning to the bar as she walked to the back door.

As he took a seat at the bar, Ryan asked, “Who’s Estelle?”

“Annie’s daughter. She’s 15 or 16, total gear head. Always making magical gadgets,” he explained, stepping behind the bar to check out Annie’s selection. “I tried to buy a magical iPod from her once. It never ran out of storage or battery life, but she wanted an arm and a leg for it.”

Finally finding a brand of whiskey he liked, he poured himself a glass. “You want something?”

“Dude, it’s 11am.”

“True, but it’s also, technically, our honeymoon and you have demon sight and my throat feels like someone dumped an ashtray in it because LA’s air is a nightmare. So, I’ll ask again. You want something?”

Ryan thought about it for a moment. “Rum.”

Shane poured him a glass and held his own out for a toast. “To really hoping this works.”

“Fuck yes,” Ryan agreed, clinking their glasses.

Shane was tempted to down his drink in one go before remembering his tolerance would be much, much lower now. In his 24 or so hours of losing his invulnerabilities, he’d gained new respect for humans. Demons always talked a big game about being survivors, but honestly, humanity had nothing on them.

A few minutes later, Annie emerged from the back room, her daughter trailing behind her. Before being introduced, she walked right up to Ryan and started measuring his head with a flexible tape measure.

“Um, hi,” Ryan said with an awkward little wave.

Annie rolled her eyes. “Estelle, where are your manners?”

Not stopping her measuring, she introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Estelle. You’re Ryan, the dumbass who married Shane.”

A chorus of “Hey!”’s rang out from all three adults that she ignored. After taking a few more measurements, she pulled out a worn notepad from her overalls and jotted some numbers down.

“What did they look like?”

“Um, what?”

“Your _eyes,_ obviously,” she said with no patience.

“Oh, uh, one second.” Ryan pulled out his phone and opened a couple old selfies. “Like that.”

Estelle snatched the phone from him, pinching the screen to zoom in, studying them. “Okay, I can do glasses. Contacts are too flimsy, they’d never last more than a couple hours. Give me a half hour, forty-five minutes.”

“Oh, uh, wow, thanks,” Ryan stammered, a little taken aback by her blunt manner. “Do you need me to text you these photos?”

“I already did,” she said, shoving his phone back into his hands. “This is gonna cost you big time, Madej.”

“Yeah, well, you can tell I’m not at full power anymore, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

She glanced at her mom with a frown. “I’m not doing this for _free,_  am I?”

“No, I was just going to talk to him about that. Just go downstairs and get working,” Annie admonished her.

Needing no more encouragement, Estelle disappeared while Annie took a seat next to Ryan on the other side of the bar.

“I can help pay, whatever it is,” Ryan offered, moving to grab his wallet but Shane stopped him.

“I, ah, don’t pay with money here,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “In exchange for their potions and anything else I may need, I give them my flesh and blood.”

“What the FUCK?” Ryan shouted, backing up from Annie.

“We use it in our recipes,” she explained calmly. “Demon blood is very powerful and normally hard for us to come by, but Shane’s been trading with our family for what, two hundred years?”

“Two hundred and four to be exact. But I’m not sure if I’m any good to you lovely ladies, now,” he lamented. “I’m still a demon but not, you know, top shelf material.”

“We can try it out. Some demonic blood is better than nothing. And, if you think you can handle it, I think a horn will be enough payment for the glasses.”

“Sure. They should still grow back, thanks to your healing potion. I think.”

“Alright, c’mon back,” Annie said, beckoning him to the back room. Shane followed but Ryan just stood awkwardly by the bar.

“I, uh, I think I’m good out here,” he said, thumbing the edge of his drink.

“It won’t take long,” Shane assured him before shutting the door behind him.

The Witch’s Brew’s backroom was like any other bar’s on the surface, with rows of kegs and liquor crates stacked three high. But right at the top of the stairs to the basement, there was a single discolored brick. Annie pulled it out, pressing a sequence of buttons on its underside that popped open a secret door to a room that would never appear on any building plan or blueprint. While the basement was for Estelle’s inventions, this was where the true magic happened, as they said. Shane followed Annie in to her lab with its crystal clean white floors and countertops, numerous percolating beakers and cauldrons, and a small tray of medical supplies, including scalpels, syringes, and a bonesaw. She headed straight for the tray, delicately picking up a syringe.

Shane sat on his usual stool, resting his left arm on the table and pointedly looking anywhere but at the needle that was about to go into the crook of his elbow.

“You know, if you two were gonna get hitched, I don’t know why you were here asking me for help the other day,” she commented, prepping his arm.

“I was trying to find another way, so he wouldn’t have to deal with this crap,” he explained, watching one of her vials bubble bright purple liquid. “But then another demon tried to make him a deal and, long story short, he chose me over having a normal life.”

She gently stuck the needle in but it was still a needle and now that his pain tolerance was bullshit, Shane hissed, pounding his other hand against his thigh even harder than usual. But as they’d done this dance hundreds of times, both let it pass without comment.

“Wow. He must really love you then, hm?”

“Oh, I don’t know about love. We just sorta got together _that_ way a few days ago.”

She sighed, like only a mother could. “You are how old and you think that some guy is gonna choose a life of demons over one without because he simply _likes_ you?”

He squirmed as she drew the blood. “I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Well, I think it’s safe to assume that that boy loves you,” she said plainly. “Alright done with this part.”

Shane rubbed his left arm as he knelt down on the ground. “How’s it look?”

Annie scrutinized the syringe, holding it up to the light. “I can tell that it’s not as strong as it used to be, but it should still work. May need to charge you double in the future, though.”

“That works,” he said before temporarily dropping his appearance spell. “Right or left?”

“I think we’ve still got some left left,” she chuckled at the accidental wordplay. “So, right.”

Shane positioned himself so that his right horn was closest to her, with his forehead pressed against the counter. This was always awkward, but thankfully it usually didn’t hurt too badly. Stepping up to his right side, Annie firmly grabbed his right horn by the base, right above his ear, and began to saw.

She was about halfway done when they heard Ryan from the other side of the secret door.

“Um, Shane? Annie? There’s another demon outside. Oh wait they’re inside now. Fuck!” he lowered his voice. “Shit, I can see you in there but how do you open this thing?”

“You expecting anyone else?” Shane asked, glancing up at her.

“No.”

Without another word, and with his horn half sawed off but still hanging on, Shane moved past her and swung open the lab’s door to yank Ryan inside.

“Whoa, holy shit!” he breathed, swiveling around to look at everything. “This is awesome!”

“Thank you,” Annie beamed before getting serious. “So, you didn’t see what they looked like?”

“No, I just saw the outline and ran in the back. Instincts, heh.”

“Should be okay, I have a few other regulars like him. They’re much stingier, though, so they don’t get the good stuff,” she winked. “It’s probably no one, but stay back here just in case.”

She left them, shutting the brick door. Ryan rubbed his hands over his face.

“Fuck, I’m still so chickenshit about this stuff.”

“Hey, whatever keeps you safe,” Shane shrugged, squeezing his shoulder. “Plus, the nerves are quite appreciated for this malnourished demon.”

“Ugh, I forgot about that. Now I’m even madder at myself for being scared,” he grumbled.

“No, seriously, it was smart to come back here, especially now that you’re the one that can sense them. I couldn’t even smell whoever is out there, these stupid goddamn allergies have me all stuffed up.”

Mollified, Ryan went back to admiring Annie’s lab, surely compiling at least hundred questions for her. But it was only a few moments later that the secret door opened again and when Annie entered, it was apparent that whoever out there was bad news.

“He wants to see you two,” she gulped, face drawn. “He’s not disguised and he locked the place up.”

What the fuck? Everyone below knew they couldn’t touch Ryan, who the hell was up here hassling them now? “Shit, Annie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you this bullshit.”

“I know. Just...just don’t let anything happen to Estelle, okay?” she stammered, tears forming in her eyes.

“Never,” he promised, squeezing her hand before stepping past her towards the door to the bar. Ryan followed, pausing to face Annie.

“He has wings and giant red horns, doesn’t he?”

“How’d you know?” she gasped.

He turned to Shane. “It’s John.”

Oh that motherfucker.

“I am going to murder him so much,” Shane threatened, throwing open the bar door. Sitting at the bar, drinking vodka with his pinkie talon out ( _ugh_ ), was John. It was only out of concern for everyone else that he didn’t immediately make a beeline for his jugular.

“Ah, the newlyweds,” he smiled with no joy in voice. “Congratulations are in order, no?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shane growled.

“Trying to understand,” he started, swirling the ice around his glass. “Why I am not currently sticking you with 10,000 needles in Hell?”

“Because Ryan didn’t take your deal, duh,” he jeered.

“Yes, but _why_?” he asked, narrowing his darkened eyes at Ryan. “She told me, _swore_ to me even, that you’d never do this, become like us, not even for him. But you did. Why?”

“Wait, who’s ‘she’?”

“Your boss. What, you think I wouldn’t do all my research before devising the most scrumptious torture plan for you?”

Lucille talked to this dick about him and Ryan? Oh, she was going to get QUITE the voicemail later.

“It’s not rocket science, you asshole. A life with Shane or a life without. Easy,” Ryan said, putting on an exceptionally defiant face, although Shane could still feel the fear rolling off him.

“But you’re everything you’ve ever hated, now! You have feared us for so long, put so much effort into protecting yourself from us, I just don’t understand how you could change so quickly!”

“Because it’s Shane. I don’t understand how you don’t get that,” Ryan sneered. Shane was so proud; he was finally being brave at the right time.

“I don’t get it precisely because it’s Shane! His only real talent is manipulating your videos that you work so hard on, and he’s lied to you for years! You should despise him!” John ranted, slamming his glass down.

“Yeah, I should,” Ryan agreed, taking a step forward. “He lied to me about being a demon and knowing ghosts were real and all of that. But all of those lies? They’re why I get to do my dream job. Without Shane, I’d still be doing videos with Brent with 20,000 views and cheap graphics. With Shane, I get to research creepy crimes and weird old asylums and go ghost hunting. Actual ghost hunting! And, most importantly, I get to do it all with him. You’re a fucking dumbass if you’d think I’d give that up for anything.”

It took every ounce of him to not sweep Ryan up his arms and kiss him so passionately that they could be the cover of a cheesy romance novel. Fuck, he loved him so much.

“Yeah, I still don’t get it,” John shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter, I suppose. I’m really here to take what’s mine.”

Shane automatically stepped in front of Ryan, shielding him. “You can’t have him, our marriage protects him.”

“I’m aware, thank you. I don’t care about his pathetic lovesick soul, I never did. You’re the one that I want,” he said angrily, pointing a talon right at Shane’s heart. “And you can’t see me now if I do this, right?”

He flicked his wrist and was suddenly invisible, actually invisible. Heart pounding, Shane finally understood some of the terror Ryan felt on their ghost hunts.

“Okay, go hide, I’ll figure-,”

Ryan didn’t let him finish, grabbing his hand and pulling him three feet to the left. “I can do this. Don’t let the fear in, right?”

Shane swallowed, hating this, wishing he could just end this without Ryan being involved. “Yeah. No fear.”

Ryan yanked him behind the bar, head swinging around, trying to find where John had gone. Shane nudged him and made discreet wing movements to get him to look up. Ryan’s head immediately shot up, and without a second thought, he threw a bar glass straight up, hitting an invisible mass that roared. Grabbing Shane again, he shuffled them around the bar and up against the front entrance.

“I got an idea,” Ryan said, chest heaving.

Shane knew what it was. “No, no way.”

“It’s the only way.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“It’ll work,” he said confidently, eyes on the ceiling.

He hauled Shane across the restaurant, weaving in out of the tables in an unpredictable zigzag pattern, knocking chairs over, never stopping until they reached the far corner.

A low and terrible voice rang in their heads.

“ _Cornered, aw isn’t that nice.”_

Shielding Ryan, Shane started a push spell, just in case, ready to aim it for that motherfucker, but right before he could lock and load it, Ryan shoved him so forcefully out of the way that he fell hard to the ground, breaking his half sawed off horn in the process. Pivoting around, he saw a giant red slash appear on Ryan’s cheek. Shane began to scream but it was drowned out by an ear-splitting shriek. John was no longer invisible and he was no longer in one piece.

Starting with his talon, his entire body was disintegrating into ash. He roared and screamed but there was nothing to be done. Shane and Ryan’s blood oath or marriage or whatever you wanted to call it, had worked. Within seconds, he was nothing more than a pile of dirt on the floor.

“Holy shit,” Ryan gasped, awestruck.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, scrambling over to him. “You dusted him, baby!”

Ryan started to laugh but had to stop, clutching his bleeding cheek. Shane immediately grabbed his flask of healing liquid and handed it to him and within seconds, it was healed.

“Do you think there’ll be more?” Ryan asked.

“Not sure but I would guess not. The rest of the demons that approved his torture plan probably think me becoming mortal is punishment enough.”

Just then, Annie peeked her head through the back room’s door, whispering. “Is he gone?”

“Yup, coast is clear!” Shane shouted. “Sorry your place is a bit of mess, though.”

“As long as that fool trickster is gone, I don’t care,” she said, surveying the damage. Besides the broken glass, there wasn’t too big of a wreck, just a lot of tables and chairs that needed straightening. And, you know, a giant pile of disintegrated demon to sweep up.

Shane and Ryan helped Annie tidy up, although she insisted on keeping John’s remains (“Hey, you never know! Might be able to do something with them!”). While she took them, and Shane’s horn, back to her lab, Ryan poured them both another round of drinks.

“Do you think we’ll ever just have a normal day, ever again?” Ryan sighed.

“Since when is yelling at a demon not a normal day for you?” he joked.

“Shut up, you know what I mean. Like, sleeping in, grabbing a late lunch, going to the beach, watching a game, normal, everyday stuff,” he lamented. “Don’t get me wrong, going to a witch bar? This is awesome. But it’s just been a lot, you know?”

“That it has,” Shane agreed, swallowing a big gulp of whiskey. “I think, tonight, I’ll get my stuff and go back to my place. Then I can properly court you.”

Ryan snorted into his glass, rubbing his nose from the alcohol burn. “‘Court’ me?”

“Yeah! Get all dressed up, take you out to a fancy dinner and a movie, you know, first date stuff.”

“I think we’re way past first date stuff,” Ryan replied, holding up his scarred palm.

“Okay, maybe instead...fifth date stuff.”

“And what does Shane Madej do on fifth dates?”

Shane lowered his chin, letting some hair fall into his eyes, and putting on his sultriest voice. “Oh, fifth dates are special. It’s where I really let myself go, when I expose who I truly am. The date and I take it nice and slow, my arms wrapped around theirs as I guide them through it. No rushing, we just savor the time together as I help them adjust their grip and wait for the just the right timing, the right opening.”

“And then what?” Ryan breathed, his cheeks positively blazing.

“And then we hit the little purple ball through the windmill.”

Ryan groaned, shoving Shane in the chest. “MINI GOLF? Goddammit I hate you so much.”

Grabbing Ryan’s hands, Shane pulled him in close, grinning. “You love me.”

He said it automatically, as typical banter, not really thinking about the implication of that these days. But Ryan didn’t skip a beat.

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Heart full, Shane tipped his head down to kiss him. Kissing back, Ryan wound his fingers around the back of Shane’s neck for leverage.

“Ahem.”

They broke apart to find Estelle staring at them, a pair of glasses in her hand and peering at them over her own.

“Oh, uh, hey,” Ryan blushed. “Are they ready?”

Stepping up to him, she slid the glasses onto his face, adjusting them on his ears. “What do you think?”

Shane’s heart leapt into his throat. It was incredible, once the lenses were on, those coal black eyes were gone, replaced by the warm brown ones Shane loved so much.

Using his selfie camera as a mirror, Ryan checked them out for himself, a grin spreading over his entire face.

“Holy shit. You did it!”

“They should work until they get about here,” she said, pushing them down his nose until they rested on the tip. “See, all black again. I popped your old lenses out and made new ones with some ectoplasm, demon claw nails, and a blowtorch. Should last you a few years, at least.”

“Estelle, this is amazing! Thank you so much!” Ryan gushed, still checking himself out in the phone camera. “Can I hug you?”

“No.”

“Fist bump?”

“Fine.”

He bumped her fist and Shane swore he saw a glimmer of a smile flicker across her face before she turned to leave.

Shane moved behind him to slide his arms around his waist, leaning down to rest his chin on Ryan's shoulder.

“Guess I'm a glasses guy all the time now, huh?”

“Yup. Good thing you pull them off exceptionally well.”

“Gonna be weird at the gym or the beach, though.”

“We’ll get you those wrap around goggle things and tell everyone you have some rare prescription or something. Lucille's good for that kind of paperwork.”

He frowned, remembering that John had said Lucille had told him details about Ryan. Chin still on Ryan's shoulder, he pulled out his phone to begin typing a strongly worded text.

“But first I have to ream her out for betraying us to that asshole.”

To his surprise, Ryan swiped his phone out of his hands. “Wait. I don't think she did, Shane.”

Frowning harder, he straightened up. “What're you talking about? John just said that she told him you'd never go through with this so he was able to plan his little deal! No wonder she was so against us, I bet she had money riding on this or some other bullshit.”

He turned around to talk to him properly, fiddling with his glasses a little. “Then why did she spend those few minutes I was alone with her the other day trying to convince me to marry you?”

His eyebrows knitted together so furiously that it gave him a mild headache. “She did what?!”

“She went on and on about how unheard of it was for demons to become mortal and the fact that you were willing to do that for me was a really big deal,” he explained. “And yesterday, she told me she thought I made the ‘right’ choice. I think she wanted us to do this.”

Lucille? Doing something _helpful_? Yeah, that didn’t track.

“She probably just wanted me out of her hair,” Shane said with a shrug. “In sixty years, she won’t have to deal with me ever again.”

“Maybe. But maybe she just wanted you to be happy.”

“Did you, by chance, meet a completely different Lucille?”

“You’ve really gotta learn to be more open-minded, man,” Ryan admonished. “Sometimes people are nice, it’s a thing.”

“Not demons.”

Ryan poked him in the stomach. “ _You’re_ a demon.”

“Yeah, and I’m an asshole.”

“Not all the time.”

“But-,”

Ryan covered up his mouth with his palm. “You have really got to learn when to shut the fuck up, Shane.”

Curling his fingers around Ryan’s wrist, he moved his hand just enough to whisper. “I like it better when you do it for me.”

Ryan’s breath hitched, one of his legs sliding in between Shane’s, not quite touching his crotch but fuck, it was close. Shane pressed his fingers against the underside of Ryan’s wrist hard enough to feel his heartbeat, and Ryan licked his lips in such an obscene manner that Shane blushed.

“We should go,” Ryan whispered.

“Yes, yes we should,” Shane agreed.

They quickly said their goodbyes and thank yous to Annie and nearly tripped over each other getting back to the car. As Ryan drove, it was all Shane could do to keep his hands to himself. They’d spent yesterday recovering from the ceremony, so they hadn’t properly consummated this marriage, yet, and the desire was hitting them both like a ton of bricks.

Suddenly, Ryan took a left turn when he should have kept going straight to get back to his apartment.

“Where are you going?”

“Your place is closer.”

Shane squirmed in his seat, his dick already starting to harden. “Fuck, Ryan.”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Ryan cleared his throat, dropping his voice a register.

“That’s the idea.”

Shane gulped, literally sitting on his hands so he wouldn’t cause them to have a wreck.

“Drive faster.”

\----

The night they had hooked up for the first time wasn’t slow, exactly, but there was an air of caution around it. Two people who knew each other so well seeing one another in a new light, it was bound to be deliberate, careful even.

This was not like that at all.

The moment Ryan slammed the door behind them to Shane’s apartment, Shane slammed him up against it, crushing their mouths together. It was a sloppy, bruising kiss that left Ryan hungry for more. He was so antsy, so horny, his limbs couldn’t decide what he wanted most. He tried kicking his shoes off while staying pressed up against Shane, and he had one arm out of his jacket but the other was looped around Shane’s neck.

Shane was on a similar level of coordination, one hand down the back of Ryan’s pants, squeezing his ass, and the other unbuckling his own belt. Ryan knew they should stop for just a minute, thirty seconds even, and properly get undressed but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop touching Shane, couldn’t keep the taste of his lips off his tongue.

“Carry me,” he managed to mumble in between kisses, hooking his one shoeless leg up around Shane’s waist.

Shane lifted him up, his fingers digging into the undersides of his thighs. Ryan was so fucking glad Shane kept his demon strength. He’d been picked up by people before, but not with such ease, and it drove him absolutely crazy.

While Shane walked them back to his bedroom, Ryan managed to shrug his jacket off completely without breaking their lips apart (take that, coordination). When they got to his room, the door was shut, so Shane had to hitch him up on his hips with one hand while he twisted the doorknob open with the other and the desire in Ryan’s belly erupted from a campfire into a full-blown inferno. His dick was throbbing in his jeans, aching to be touched. Fucking clothes.

Once inside, Shane literally tossed Ryan onto the bed (a king size to accommodate his height) but he didn’t have enough time to take more clothes off because Shane was on top of him quick as lightning. Biting at his lips, Shane shoved a hand up Ryan’s t-shirt, grabbing at every bit of skin he could, before pulling it over his head. Getting caught in the collar, Ryan’s glasses came off, and suddenly, everything stopped.

They stared at each other, chests heaving. Delicately, Shane picked them up off the sheets.

“On or off?”

Ryan had never worn glasses during sex. He usually wore contacts, anyway, and the few times he hadn’t, he’d just tossed them off as soon as the making out started, fine if his vision was a little blurry. But these glasses did nothing for his vision (Shane still had a faint red glow about him), they were purely for appearances.

“I think...I think on. For now,” he finally answered. For the first time in a week, they had no other demons or other supernatural bullshit to worry about, and he wanted this to be just about them and if his new, demonic eyes were out, he knew Shane would at some point get lost in them, beating himself up for unknowingly gifting them to him. Ryan was way too horny for that shit.

Shane slipped his glasses back on and it was like hitting play on a paused video, the air filled with chaotic motion again. Dipping his head, Shane began to kiss the inside of Ryan’s biceps, sucking on the skin hard enough to bruise. Ryan knew his arms were good, great even, and it turned him on that Shane was marking them as his own.

While one arm was occupied, Ryan was still able to undo the fly on his jeans and shove them and his underwear down just enough to free his cock, moaning as he was finally able to touch himself. Shane glanced down before looking up at him with dark, carnal eyes.

“Wait.”

Ryan’s breath hitched, his hand stilling around his cock. Abruptly, Shane rolled to the other edge of the bed, pulling some things out of his nightstand drawer. Things like extra large condoms and a hefty looking bottle of lube.

Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. This was happening. Holy shit this was happening.

Shane rolled back over, cupping Ryan’s cheek, his thumb edging the frame of his glasses. “Don’t come ‘til I’m inside you. Okay?”

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he nodded, reluctantly letting go of his cock. He knew Shane was asking if it was okay, not demanding, but Ryan pretended it was the latter. He didn’t want to have to think right now and if Shane was going to take charge here, he was more than happy to let him.

Sitting up, Shane finally got undressed himself, while Ryan pulled his bottoms and remaining shoe off. Once they were naked, Shane dipped his head down to kiss him again, licking purposely into his mouth a few times.

“Y’know, it was good we came here instead of your place,” he said, running his fingers over Ryan’s hair.

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “My bed’s a lot sturdier. Yours would break and I can’t be buying you a whole new bedroom set.

Ryan full-bodied shuddered, his back arching off the bed. He’d never wanted something so badly in his entire life.

After one more filthy kiss, Shane slithered down his body until he was able to spread his thighs as far as they would go while Ryan reached behind him to stuff a pillow behind his head and slide one under his back. Shane poured a healthy amount of lube onto his fingers and began to rub them against him, pressing just the fingertips in.

Ryan gasped, fisting the sheets. While he’d done that to himself recently, it had been awhile since someone else had and that sensation of new and unfamiliar skin was incredible. And then Shane had to go and double down, taking the head of Ryan’s cock into his mouth as his fingers slowly worked their way farther inside.

“Shit fuck!” he moaned, arching into his mouth automatically. His brain couldn’t focus, wanting more from his mouth and his fingers all at the same time, and to his credit, Shane was giving him both.

While he sucked Ryan’s cock, two of his fingers, long and slender, slid all the way in, twisting him open. Ryan was not gonna last like this, so he reluctantly nudged Shane’s temple.

“You told me to wait.”

Pulling off his cock with a sloppy _pop_ , Shane apologized, voice raw.

“Sorry, baby. Your dick just tastes so fucking good.”

Baby? Oh fuck, Ryan did not even want to think about how into that he was right now, but in his defense, he was in the middle of being taken apart.

Pressing his lips to the inside of his thigh, Shane slid a third finger inside. Fuck, the stretch was a lot, but Ryan knew what was ahead of him and took some deep breaths to adjust. Shane knew what he was doing, though, (at his age, he should) and worked Ryan open with gentle precision.

“Ready?” Shane asked, still carefully twisting his fingers.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

After slipping his fingers out, Shane rolled a condom on, pausing before he lubed up.

“I haven’t touched myself today. You did this,” he said, showing off his completely hard cock. “That’s how fucking gone I am for you.”

“Shane,” he started, heart thumping against his chest.

“I know we’re doing this all backwards and I want-I want to fix that. And I will. But right now, I look at you and all I can think of is how goddamn gorgeous you are, and how much I want you, and how much I fucking love you.”

Ryan sat up to cup Shane’s face in his hands. He had that look on his face, that one that was so intense and piercing that normally made Ryan squirm, but now, it centered him, finally understanding what it meant.

“I know, I know, ‘shut up, Shane’,” he said, ducking his head in Ryan’s hands.

“You think you know everything,” Ryan said, pulling him in until he could feel Shane’s breath on his lips. “But you have no idea how much I love you.”

Their lips crashed against each other, slower, deeper this time, like they were melding together into one being. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never _wanted_ someone so badly. It was intense and a little terrifying, but more than anything, it felt _right._

When they broke apart, Ryan grabbed the lube and helped slick up Shane’s cock. It wasn’t quite as thick as his own, but goddamn, it was long, just like the rest of him. Once it was time, Ryan laid back down, adjusting the pillow under his back, and spread his thighs as wide as they could go.

Shane positioned himself at his entrance, biting his already red and swollen lip.

“Just breathe, okay?”

Ryan nodded, bracing himself as Shane began to push in. The stretch was a lot, so he took some deep breaths to help adjust. Okay, this was good, not as intimidating as he thought.

“Halfway, you good?”

“H-half?!” Ryan choked. Holy shit.

“Touch yourself. It’ll help,” Shane instructed, still slowly sliding in.

He did as he was told, wrapping his fingers that were still slick from lube around his own cock to jerk himself. Shane was right, it did help, as he focused on his dick and was able to relax as Shane’s was still pushing in.

Finally, Shane was all the way in, and holy shit, he’d never felt so much stretch, never felt so _full_ in his life. Shane leaned down over him to press their foreheads together.

“Just breathe, Ryan. Breathe.”

He took some deep breaths, bracing himself with his hands curled around Shane’s arms.

“Okay.”

Tilting his hips, Shane began to move, and oh fuck, it was a lot but in a really good way. Even though his thighs were burning, he hooked his legs up around Shane’s waist to make the angle better, and _oh fuck._ Shane picked up his pace, snapping his hips to plunge in and out of Ryan, finally hitting that sweet spot and a waterfall of groans and swears fell from his lips.

Shane sat back up enough so he could grab Ryan’s cock with his right hand, pulling on it as he continued to fuck him. His senses were so overwhelmed he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He was completely falling apart, it was only a matter of time now.

“C’mon, baby. Come for me,” Shane whispered, obviously on the verge himself.

With a choked gasp, Ryan finally fell over the edge, arching up into Shane’s hand as come coated his chest and stomach. His dick was so sensitive, he was about to ask Shane to let go, but just then, Shane was pulling out, flinging the condom off, and coming with a sharp moan, also all over Ryan’s abs.

Boneless, Shane collapsed next to him, sharing his pillow and his long legs tangling with Ryan’s. Without a second thought, Ryan ran his fingers through the mess on his stomach and brought his hand up to Shane’s lips. With a grin so lewd it should have been illegal, Shane sucked his come-coated fingers into his mouth, licking them off with gusto. Next thing he knew, Shane was copying him, wiping come off of Ryan and feeding it to him. They hadn’t talked about this, but fuck, Ryan was so into come-sharing and the fact that Shane was too just made him want him more.

Shane didn’t taste like anyone he’d been with (not surprising). It was salty, yeah, but there was something... _otherworldly_ about it, too, a taste he’d never had before that he couldn’t place. Or maybe Ryan was just overthinking it. Regardless, he couldn’t stop chasing it, especially with his own mixed in.

When they were done, having wiped the rest up with some tissues, Shane eased Ryan onto his side, slinging an arm around his waist to rub small circles against his lower back.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Really good,” Ryan said, nuzzling against the hollow of his neck. His glasses were pressed awkwardly against his face but he didn’t feel like moving enough to take them off.

“I know it’s a lot, especially the first time.”

“It was but in a good way.”

They laid there quietly for a few moments, occasionally twitching from aftershocks before Shane spoke again.

“I meant it, earlier. I’m gonna back off a little, give us some space. Fix it.”

He shifted his face up enough to catch Shane’s eye. “What’s there to fix? This seems pretty great to me.”

“It is, I just,” he paused, steadying his voice. “I don’t want to mess this up. Go too fast and burn out, y’know?”

Ryan thought about it for a minute, realizing Shane had a point. This had all been such a whirlwind, finding out about Shane’s demonic status, the marriage, getting together, it had all happened in a little over a week. A little space for both of them was not only smart, but necessary. Then they could “court”, as Shane had said.

 _Court._  Jesus Christ, Ryan was in love with such a weirdo.

“You’re right,” Ryan finally said. “But let’s not start until tomorrow, okay? ‘Cause my ass is not leaving this bed anytime soon.”

Spreading his palm against his back, Shane pushed Ryan in even closer to him. “Deal.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon and eventual evening in various states of undress, napping, showering, giving blowjobs in the shower, eating takeout, and watching movies before finally winding back up in bed for real. Shane used his witch Windex to clean the sheets, and it was like they were fresh out of the laundry.

Ryan set his glasses on the nightstand and curled up with his back to Shane, on his side. Shane wrapped his twenty miles of limbs around him, clutching Ryan’s right hand with his own across his chest and his nose pressed against the back of his neck. He knew it was for the best, but Ryan dreaded sleeping alone again tomorrow; Shane was an excellent big spoon.

“Sorry our honeymoon wasn’t all that exciting,” Shane yawned.

“We’ll make up for it next time.”

He felt Shane grin at his neck. “Next time?”

“In the future. Far future,” he clarified, but he was grinning too.

Shane squeezed his hand and softly pressed his lips against the juncture of his neck and back. They couldn’t be making any more crazy life-altering decisions right now, but if they did this right, didn’t fuck it up, Ryan could see them making it official, in the human way that hopefully would not involve quite so much blood.

But yeah, that was far off in the future, if it all, so as he drifted off to sleep, Ryan focused on the here and now, on Shane’s breath hitting the back of his neck, on the hardened skin of his scar pressing into Ryan’s hand, on the soreness in his backside, and how he hoped the morning would take awhile to come.


	9. Chapter 9

As strange as it was to not constantly be around Ryan, Shane was sure he’d made the right call in cooling down (cooling off? He could never keep up with all of humanity’s colloquialisms) things. Their relationship had gotten so intense, so quickly, that it only made sense to spend some time apart so they wouldn’t burn through each other in six months. Shane’s dick wasn’t too happy about it, but well, could he blame it?

Of course, it helped that they literally worked about seven inches apart from each other and that their jobs required them to be around each other pretty much all the time when they were at the office. They weren’t telling people that they were together, not yet, but they weren’t exactly being subtle, either.

“Gonna take it on over to ‘Gram Town-whoops, sorry,” Shane apologized as he dropped his phone for the fourth time during the latest Post-Mortem filming.

“Y’know, if you used both hands to hold it, this probably wouldn’t keep happening,” TJ said, vaguely annoyed from the other side of the camera.

“You’re a smart guy, Teej,” he nodded, reluctantly removing his hand from the inside of Ryan’s thigh under the desk. Ryan responded by rubbing his shoe up Shane’s shin and he dropped the phone for a fifth time.

There was also the time where they almost got caught making out in the supply closet but, thankfully, Ryan had locked it while they were pretending to pick out Post-It notes.

“Hey, why is this locked?” Sara asked, jiggling the door handle.

“Oh, um, must have done it on accident,” Ryan covered, quickly smoothing down his shirt from where Shane had just been tugging on it before unlocking the door.

She stepped in, eyeing them suspiciously. “Why are you both in here?”

“I was getting Ryan’s advice on which sticky notes were the best. I, personally, favor the multi-colored ones but he likes the plain ol’ yellow ones,” Shane lied. “But he has a point, the yellow ones are easier for different colors of ink to show up.”

“Yeah! He’s uses red pens on pink Post-Its, who can read that?” Ryan said, catching on.

Still skeptical, she reached past Shane to grab a box of staples. “Well, that’s just dumb.”

“Right? That’s why he should use the yellow ones!”

“Not what I was talking about, but whatever,” she rolled her eyes, heading back out. “Shane, your fly is down, bee-tee-dubs.”

When she shut the door behind her, they exchanged panicked looks.

“We are so gonna get caught,” Ryan reckoned, falling against the back of the door.

After zipping up, Shane joined him. “Yup. I guess we should come up with a plan, for when we’re ready. Like, if we’re going to make it part of the show or not.”

“Yeah,” he said, biting his lip. “Fuck, filming a regular episode again is going to be so weird, hiding us and dealing with this whole thing.” He waved his hand in front of his glasses.

“When do we go back to Rosa’s hospital?”

“Tuesday.”

“Well, at least there, you know what to expect? She’s the only regular and she won’t scare you.”

“But that might be a bad thing. If I don’t get scared, people don’t like it as much,” he lamented.

“I don’t think that’s true, but,” Shane turned towards him, with his shoulder against the supply room door. “I could scare you.”

Ryan thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. I guess we’ll see how it’s going, call an audible if we need to.”

“That’s a sports reference, right? Call it in the air type of thing?”

“Uh, yeah.” Ryan shook his head, clearly baffled by Shane’s lack of sports knowledge once again. “Anyway, we should probably get back to our desks. Starting to get suspicious.”

“Just one more thing.”

Pressing Ryan up against the door, he kissed him while squeezing the spot on his bicep where Shane knew there was still a purple bruise. Ryan wriggled underneath him, gasping, before Shane abruptly let go and opened the supply room door.

“Yellow sticky notes it is!” Shane smirked, winking back at him as he strolled out into the office.

Red-faced, Ryan flipped him off, mouthing “Fuck you.”

“Can’t wait,” he mouthed back.

\----

They went on their first proper date that weekend, with Shane treating Ryan to an Italian dinner at a little hole-in-the-wall place near Annie’s bar. Ryan freaked out when he realized one of the chefs was a demon, but Shane assured him it was okay. Tony had spent over a hundred years working for various Italian mob syndicates as a chef, facilitating poisonings and cooking pounds of fresh pasta every day. With the mafia’s diminished presence these days, he opened this restaurant while still taking on hits as needed.

“So, does he know what happened to Jimmy Hoffa?” Ryan asked in between forkfuls of spaghetti.

“I asked. He ain’t sayin’ nothin’, Night-Night,” he said, putting on a thick, old-timey Chicago accent.

“We’ll hafta do somethin’ ‘bout that, huh, Legs?” he grinned, doing his version of a mob accent.

Shane lowered his voice. “Seriously, though, don’t ever ask him that. Tony is, um, intense.”

He glanced back at the kitchen with a shudder. “Noted.”

They’d originally agreed to no more sleepovers, at least for a couple weeks, but, well, they’d had a lot of wine at dinner and they’d already planned to watch a movie at Shane’s, so it just made sense for him to spend the night. And if they gave each other handjobs instead of watching the movie, who could blame them, really?

But as Tuesday approached, the bubble of their blissful new relationship was on the verge of bursting. Ryan was extremely anxious about investigating St. Francis’s again, worried that the episode would be a bust thanks to having film it twice and his newfound truesight taking the mystery out. Not to mention the fact that they were sleeping over again and he couldn’t really sleep with his glasses on. Shane reassured him that it would be okay, as he always snuck into the office to do is own editing before the editors got to it so any black eyes could be magicked away, but it wasn’t enough to calm him completely.

“How many do you think we should buy?”

“Well, one rose and one sunflower, obviously, and then, I dunno, one of these blue ones,” Shane suggested, plucking a light blue fabric flower out of its shelf.

“Shouldn’t we get more? I want it to be natural, so people don’t think we planned it,” he frowned, studying the rows and rows of fake flowers at Michaels.

“I guess we could make her a bouquet? And maybe she can leave something on the recorder about sunflowers.”

He grabbed a half-dozen random flowers, bunching them together, along with the rose and sunflower Ryan had already picked out. “Here, like this.”

“But is that _too_ many? I want to make sure people realize she likes sunflowers, specifically.”

Shane booped the bouquet against Ryan’s forehead. “You are way overthinking this.”

“I know,” he let out a frustrated sigh. “I wish we could just say that I talked to her without having to plan this goofy set-up.”

“I mean, you could, but you’d sound more wackadoo than usual. And while that makes my job easier, I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t sound ‘wackadoo’,” he muttered, swiping the flowers from Shane.

“Croatoan zombies?” he teased. “Pretty wackadoo if you ask me.”

Ryan pulled a couple of the flowers Shane had picked out and set them back on the shelf, replacing them with new ones. “Says the guy who actually fucked Goatman. That’s pretty fucking wacky.”

“Hey!” Shane whisper-yelled, swiveling his head around to make sure no one overheard him. “If fucking demons is ‘wacky’, then we’re on the same page there, buddy.”

Ryan’s face fell, his triumphant burn having been stamped out. “Goddammit. I walked right into that.”

He patted him on the back. “Sure did.”

They ended up buying five varieties of the craft flowers, plus a few extra sunflowers to leave for Rosa after filming ending. Ryan’s nerves calmed a bit, but Shane knew there still something gnawing at him as Ryan pulled into Shane’s apartment’s parking lot.

“You wanna come up?”

Ryan shook his head. “I’ve still got to pack, sorry.”

“Oh yeah, I should probably do that, too.” Shane reached over to squeeze Ryan’s hand. “Tomorrow’s going to go fine, okay? You’ll do right by Rosa.”

Propping his elbow up on the windowsill, Ryan held his forehead in his free hand. “I just hope it doesn’t look so staged. I hate that shit in other shows.”

“That’s what I’m for. If she lights up the flashlight or says something on the recorder, I’ll crap all over it and blame the flashlight or say the noise was our shoes squeaking. My skepticism keeps it legit.”

Ryan still didn’t look convinced and Shane couldn’t blame him. While he’d been doing this same old song and dance since Unsolved started, this was all new territory for Ryan. While Ryan still hadn’t decided if he wanted Shane to deliberately scare him or not, Shane decided to plan out a couple little things, just in case. Nothing big, just some weird spirit box noises and a couple disembodied footsteps should hopefully do the trick.

After saying goodbye to Ryan, he headed into his apartment, secretly glad he was alone so he could get a good night’s sleep. These new allergies were really doing a number on him, he got exhausted so much easier now.

Unfortunately, his apartment was already occupied.

“Fuck!” he yelped, dropping his keys as he saw Lucille lounging on his sofa with a lit cigarette perched between her fingers.

“Sorry, I forgot you can’t sense me so easily anymore,” she smirked.

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. Shane knew damn well she didn’t forget shit. “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping off your betrothed’s glasses prescription. Where is the little scamp, anyway?”

“He just dropped me off.”

“Oh? Trouble in paradise already? This is why I don’t fall in love, you know.”

“I’m sure being a truly awful garbage person helps with that,” he said, picking up his keys and tossing them on his coffee table. “And there’s no trouble, we’re just taking things slow.”

“You exchanged blood already, why would you want to slow it down? Is he bad in bed? Or, oh wait, do you have a demonic dick? Mallory was telling me about Quentin over in accounting and-,”

“NOPE, not entertaining this,” he shook his head resolutely. “I’m not telling you shit about our sex life or our relationship ever again. Who knows who else you could blab to about us?”

“Christ,” she groused. “Is this about John? Because I had to tell him _something_ or else he would have tried to take me down with you.”

Shane glowered at her, wishing his eyes could flash black so he could properly show off his anger. “You helped him with his whole scheme! If he hadn’t known that Ryan would be so opposed to marriage, he could have come up with an entirely different punishment for me that didn’t involve Ryan at all! You’re the reason I had to reveal myself to him and that he has my truesight, _forever_ , and that he’s currently fighting off twelve different anxiety attacks thinking about our shoot tomorrow!”

He pointed towards his door, letting his claws come out. “Get the fuck out of here and out of my life, Lucille.”

“Jesus, you’re ungrateful,” she sneered, stubbing out her cigarette on his table. “I _helped_ you, you absolutely pathetic excuse for hellfire. If I hadn’t told John what I did, he was going to replace you with himself, masquerading as you, to destroy your little show and your relationship with Ryan. He would have said you not only faked your bloody face video, but _all_ your videos, and said that Ryan knew all about it, all while you watched, helpless from the sidelines. I convinced him that he’d be much more successful by forcing you to get married, since Ryan would supposedly never do it, but I, of course, knew he would. So, yes, it is my fault he has truesight, but considering the alternative? You should be kissing my goddamn feet.”

“But...but you told me, before the trial, you said they weren’t going to touch him,” he sputtered, trying to make sense of this.

“I lied, you fucking imbecile. If you had known, you would have done some stupid thing trying to protect him and made things even worse for yourself. You’re terribly predictable, you know that, right?”

Dumbstruck, Shane stood motionless in his entryway. He couldn’t believe it, Ryan was right; she had been helping them even though Lucille hated him, hated humans, and would not have been affected at all by Unsolved’s destruction. She had a dozen other employees scaring people all over the world, losing Shane on Unsolved would have been a mild inconvenience at worst.

“Why?” he eventually croaked out as she lit another cigarette.

“Because you’re an embarrassment to our kind,” she said simply, blowing smoke straight up. She twirled her fingers, transforming it into a little tornado before it dissipated. “You hate murder and possession, you spend all your magical energy on looking like _that_ -,”

“Hey!”

“-The only spells you’re good at are ones any human worth their weight in special effects could do, and, most egregiously, you fell in _love._  With a _human,_ ” she finished, emphasizing her disgust.

That tracked, for the most part. Her explanation still wasn’t sitting right with him, though. There had to be more to this.

“So, why didn’t you just kill me? You might have gotten a little heat but nothing you couldn’t handle.”

She took a long drag, her green eyes trained uncomfortably on his. “Because I figured if you were going to die, you could stand to have some fun, first. I don’t, personally, understand the appeal, but he is a delectable little thing, isn’t he?”

“Not dignifying that with a response.” He ran his fingers through his hair, still trying to wrap his mind around this, around Lucille doing this for him. “I still don’t believe you, anyway. You had to get something out of this.”

Standing up, she strolled over to him, blowing a long stream of smoke right in his face, causing him to cough and rub at his burning eyes. “Believe me or not, I don’t care. It’s the truth.”

“Secondhand smoke could kill me now, you know,” he glared, in between coughs.

“I know,” she said, sauntering past him towards the door.

“Hey, wait.”

“What now?”

“How’d you know? That he would marry me?”

She turned back to him, her usual disgusted visage softened by about three percent. “Because I know that you two idiots would do anything to stay together.”

Shane’s lips upturned into a sly smirk. “Aw, you like us.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” she said, stamping out her cigarette. “Like I said, you just happen to be very predictable.”

“If we ever get married up here, you’re definitely getting the first invite.”

“You are the absolute worst and I hate you,” she said with utter disdain, drawing her portal door with an outstretched middle finger so she could flip him off while she was doing it.

Cheerfully, he waved. “Bye, Mom! Be sure to keep in touch!”

Once she disappeared and Shane was cleaning up her cigarette butts, he pictured Lucille being forced to pretend to be his mother at a human wedding ceremony and that was it, he had to marry Ryan up here, too. That was just too damn funny to pass up.

\----

“So, this is an Unsolved first. We are doing a second night here at St. Francis’s Hospital, as we didn’t get any footage from our static night-vision cameras the first time we were here. Mysteriously, all of our batteries were drained not long after the crew shut us in the morgue, including our back-ups.”

“Yes, ‘mysteriously’,” Shane scoffed. “Because technology always works right, all of the time, and never fucks up.”

“But all at once? All our cameras and recorders and back-ups that weren’t even plugged in? You gotta at least admit that it’s unusual.”

“That, or we just need new equipment.” He turned to the camera with a grin and pointed finger. “Please go to Shop dot Buzzfeed dot Com to buy our merch so we can buy better cameras.”

Ryan laughed, happy to shake off some nerves. It was strange to be so anxious before an investigation for non-ghost related reasons. Thankfully, Shane was used to being completely full of shit all the time so Ryan could depend on him to keep their usual banter going, while he worried about the shoot.

Since they didn’t have to reshoot their preamble where Ryan explained the history, set up went a lot quicker this time. As Ryan fitted his chest camera on, he tried to subtly glance around for any sign of Rosa, but there weren’t any faint blue auras that he could see. Shane had warned him that with all the floors and walls here, he may not be able to immediately find her, but he kept looking anyway.

They did their first rounds on the upper floors, retracing their steps through various patient wings and yielding zero evidence. Shane was keeping things light, but Ryan’s nerves were worse than ever. What if something had happened to her? What if some demons came here and hurt her for helping them? Could they even do that? Shit, and now his glasses were smudged and he couldn’t clean them, not with non-Shane people around. This was going to be the worst episode ever.

“So, this is the nursery again.”

“Maybe we’ll hear ghost babies again, since that’s a thing you want to wish into being.”

Ryan didn’t react as he was too busy scanning the walls, desperate for any bit of a blue outline.

“Did you see something?” Shane asked. “Or are you spinning in a very slow circle for my amusement?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, pretending to fiddle with his phone’s camera. “Thought there was a weird shadow but I think it was just your gigantic head.”

“Ah. This noggin is quite large, I can believe it.”

Shane went back to being Shane (asking if any ghost doctors wanted to stab him with a scalpel) while Ryan strained to find her. Maybe she was only in the morgue? That was just one floor down, though, shouldn’t he be able to see her?

“Golly, he’s an oddball.”

Ryan jumped, literally jumped, making an extremely embarrassing noise somewhere between a yelp and “FUCK”. He swiveled around immediately to see Rosa in her white nurse’s outfit, emitting a faint blue glow. When she realized that he saw her, she clapped her hands over her mouth, her brown eyes widening in surprise.

Meanwhile, Mark had his camera on Ryan while Shane stepped up to, his chest camera pointed towards the seemingly empty corner.

“What is it?”

“I-I heard..I heard a voice,” Ryan stammered, his heart-racing from the adrenaline spike. “From over there.”

He pointed in the direction of where Rosa was standing, her hands still tented over her mouth. Shane flashed his light and on his camera, all Ryan saw was a beam of light hit a darkened corner, while in person, it went right through the semi-transparent nurse.

“You didn’t hear it?” Ryan asked Shane, hoping that whatever he was about to say wasn’t a lie.

“Nope. You guys?”

The crew shook their heads and Ryan’s own was spinning. He’d expected to see her but to hear her? When no one else could? Holy shit.

“What’d the voice say, Ryan?” Shane asked, standing very close to him, his voice walking a tight line between lightness and actual concern.

“It was really quick, I’m not sure. I think I heard ‘oddball’, though.”

“‘Oddball’?”

“Yeah. Maybe she or he or whoever was making fun of you.”

Ryan caught Rosa’s eye as he said it, causing her to giggle. Obviously no one else heard her again and he had to suppress a smile. Knowing that she was still here was enough to alleviate most of his nerves. Now, just to keep filming without making it obvious a ghost was tagging along.

“How can you see me?” she asked, gliding over to him. “Oh, wait, I guess you can’t answer that right now, sorry. Gosh, this is exciting! I never thought I’d see you again, and here you are, seeing me!”

She beamed, a wide smile enveloping her face, and Ryan felt one grow on his own as well. Why did he think tonight would suck? Tonight was going to be _great._

“Uh, what are you grinning at?” Shane asked, waving his fingers in front of Ryan’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, man, I’m great!” He rolled his neck, bouncing on the balls of his feet, suddenly full of energy. “Where to next? The ER, right?”

“Yeah,” TJ replied. “Then down to the morgue again before we lock you in.”

“Sweet, let’s get going!”

He set off towards the ER, Rosa floating alongside him.

“I never liked ER rotations much, I didn’t get to know the patients as well. But those shifts always went by quickly, at least! On account of them being so hectic, you know,” she explained.

“Yeah, I can imagine!” Ryan said, out loud.

Taking a couple long strides, Shane easily caught up, peering down at him. “You can imagine what?”

“That you’re going to say I’m crazy for hearing a voice back in there,” he covered quickly.

“Oh, most definitely,” he agreed before adding in a low voice that Ryan heard only in his mind. “ _I’m very confused right now but just be chill, okay?”_

Ryan gave him a low thumbs-up, out of sight of the cameras but it was hard to put on a normal face. He was really happy, right now, why wasn’t everyone else?

Once they were in the emergency room area, Ryan reached into his backpack to pull out his favorite toy.

“Now, we’re in the ER, again. Shane, you want to do a Spirit Box session?”

“Ryan, you know that I have never _wanted_ to do a Spirit Box session in my entire life.”

“Great! I’ll get it ready.”

“You had that last time, too, right? It makes such an awful noise,” Rosa said, scrunching her nose. “I don’t see how it’s supposed to hear me.”

“So, the Spirit Box works by running through radio frequencies really quickly, like one-twentieth of a second for each one. The idea is that if we hear a word or words over a couple seconds, that it’s a ghost or a spirit communicating with us,” Ryan explained, partially for the camera and partially for Rosa.

She nodded. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. Does it gotta be so loud, though?”

Shane preemptively had one eye shut in consternation, bracing himself for the white noise, as Ryan flipped the switch. Instead of the slightly grating radio static, though, Ryan heard an ear-splitting screech, like the volume was turned up to eleven and then some.

“Holy shit, sorry!” He said, quickly flipping it back off. “Must have hit the volume knob.”

“Oh, no, please Ryan don’t make it louder. It was actually listenable for once!” Shane lamented.

“Haha,” Ryan rolled his eyes. “Oh, the volume’s where I usually leave it. Must have hit a weird station or something.”

Shane’s expression suddenly hardened, his lips drawing into a thin line. “Wait, you’re saying it wasn’t on low volume?”

Ryan stared back at him, puzzled. “Uh, no? I thought it was on high volume.”

“For what it’s worth, it didn’t sound any different to me,” TJ offered from behind the camera and the rest of the crew murmured in agreement.

Rosa shrugged from her spot next to Ryan. “Sounded just the same to me as before.”

What the fuck was going on? Ryan glanced at Shane again, hoping he’d say something in his truevoice to explain but he just swallowed and nodded at the box. “Let’s try it again.”

He flipped it on, and once again, his ears were filled with high-pitched screams of static, like it was broadcasting directly into his ear canal. He had to switch it off again.

“Still too loud for you?” Shane asked, his expression scarily serious.

“Yeah...I don’t know what’s going on with me,” he said truthfully.

“Maybe you have a migraine coming on, I know those can mess with your hearing sensitivity,” Shane offered, his head nodding just the tiniest bit.

“Oh, yeah, good call,” Ryan rubbed his forehead, catching on. “Maybe we should skip this tonight.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll hold it.” Shane held out his hands, his fingers beckoning for the device.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Ryan handed the Spirit Box over, deliberately letting his fingers linger on Shane’s for just a second, desperate for him to explain what the fuck was happening. Shane understood, and his voice echoed in his mind once again.

“ _You didn’t just get my eyes, Ryan_.”

His entire body buzzed like it was filled with angry bees. He had demonic _hearing_ on top of this shit? Holy shit holy shit, this was crazy, this was too crazy.

“Breathe, sweetheart. It’ll be okay,” Rosa comforted, her hands phasing through his shoulders.

With a deep breath, he instantly felt himself calm down, at least a little bit. Damn, she was good at that. He gave her a small smile, off-camera, before nodding at Shane to start the box.

The shriek of static filled the room and Ryan’s ears again. Rolling his neck, he tried in vain to block it out as he asked some of his routine questions.

“If anyone’s here with us,” (Rosa waved) “can you tell us your name?”

She leaned in close to the device, cringing from the noise. “Rosa.”

Out of the static, he heard a “-SA.”

“Za? Who is named Za?” Shane asked in his usual dickish manner.

“Can you tell us our names? I’m Ryan, this is Shane.”

“Ryan, Shane,” she repeated.

“RY-en, shay,” from the box. Oh man, this was so weird but so cool. The box did work! Maybe not super accurately but it did work!

He grinned wildly at both his supernatural companions. “Holy shit, those were our names!”

“I dunno,” Shane said, putting on his dubious face. “Two or three random syllables over radio stations? Impossible!”

“Whatever, I heard it.”

“Oh, let me try again. Ask me what he looks like!” Rosa said with a mischievous grin.

“Alright, spirits. Can you describe what my friend here holding the box looks like?”

Shane quirked an eyebrow. “That’s a new one.”

“Just trying something out.”

“Tall white boy with a giant head,” she giggled. Ryan had to bite down so hard on his lip to not laugh out loud with her.

“TALL why boy wi GI-NT head.”

“Oh my god, dude!” Ryan gasped, bouncing in his sneakers. “‘Tall white boy with giant head.’ It’s you!”

Looking thoroughly annoyed, Shane shifted his weight, his long fingers hovering over the power switch. “I just heard a bunch of nonsense words.”

Ryan knew why he was lying but that wasn’t going to stop him from needling him about it. “You are so full of shit! They just described you, to a T!”

Shane looked to the camera. “This is where we’ll edit in me listening to gobbledygook in the booth and I’ll tell Ryan he’s nuts.”

“Nah, us Boogaras are about to have our revenge,” he grinned.

“I highly doubt that,” Shane said, adding in his true voice. “ _Okay, you two had your fun. No more voices on here, alright?_ ”

“Alright, Dad,” Rosa said sarcastically. Ryan had to quickly turn a wheezing laugh into a wheezing cough.

They asked a few more questions with no responses before Shane finally turned the Spirit Box off. While Ryan was grateful for the horrible shrieking of the static to be over, he kind of wished he and Rosa could have kept roasting Shane through it. If only she had been able to call him a Sasquatch or Bigfoot.

As they walked around the rest of the former emergency room, Rosa told him about various patients and doctors that used to work here with her. He felt bad he couldn’t respond, but she didn’t seem to mind. He wondered when the last time she’d really been able to talk to someone was. Surely, it wasn’t before she died, was it?

After that, it was time to head back down to the morgue. He started to get nervous again, wanting to make sure this went right (but not _too_ right, you know? It had to be natural).

“Back in the morgue,” Shane said casually as they trudged down the stairs. “Excited to sleep here again?”

“As long as we get footage this time, bring it on.”

Rosa floated in front of him, her smile fading. Ryan didn’t have to wonder why; who would be psyched to have to revisit the room where they died?

“Alright, so, once again this is the morgue and it’s where a benevolent spirit is supposed to reside. Rosa Espinoza was a nurse here, and she was killed by one of the staff’s doctors in 1952. Everything I read said they were lovers and that he shot her when she threatened to go to his wife about their relationship, but I’ve been thinking about that and that’s sort of unfair to say for sure, don’t you think?”

Shane glanced up from his camera. “What do you mean?”

“Well, all the reporters and cops took this asshole murderer’s word for it. None of her friends or family said they knew about the affair, which is possible, but I think that we shouldn’t be so hasty to believe he was telling the truth. I mean, he murdered a young woman. The guy sucked.”

“I always thought he was so nice,” Rosa said quietly. “He’d offer to walk me to the bus stop if I had a late shift, buy me lunch, stuff like that, you know. He was married so I figured he was just looking out for me. Kind of stupid, huh?”

Ryan caught her eye, subtly shaking his head “no.” Her eyes began to well, and he felt his own burn, too.

“Yeah, douchebags shouldn’t get the benefit of the doubt,” Shane agreed, unknowingly talking over Rosa. “Do you want to try and ask her what happened? Ryan?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, right,” he sniffed, shrugging off his backpack to pull out the small bouquet of fabricated flowers.

“Last time we were here, I left a rose for Rosa, but we didn’t get any response from it, so tonight we brought her a whole bunch of flowers to see if we can prompt her to manifest.”

“Oh sweetheart,” she said softly as Ryan walked them over towards the small plaque bearing her name.

“So, we’ve got a rose, again, a carnation, I think? And a sunflower, and well, I, uh, actually don’t know what the rest of these are. I’m not a florist,” Ryan said as he showed the flowers off to the camera. “Hopefully, Rosa will like at least one of these.”

He set the bouquet down respectfully before placing a flashlight and an audio recorder next to it. “Okay, we’ve got an audio recorder here and a flashlight to help us communicate.”

Shane moved around to shoot the scene with his chest camera. “Really covering all your bases here, huh?”

“Can’t hurt, right?”

Rosa drifted over to kneel by her flowers, the tips of her shoes phasing into the floor. “I’ll try my best.”

“Alright, is anyone here with us? You can speak into the recorder there or light up the flashlight,” Ryan said, trying to not focus his gaze on where Rosa was kneeling but it was pretty damn hard to not stare at a ghost when they were five feet in front of you.

“Yes,” she said, leaning down to speak into the recorder’s microphone. Ryan glanced at Shane, who made no indication he heard anything. Rosa realized it as well, so she sat back up and pressing her fingers against the flashlight’s power button. Like when she touched Ryan’s cheek, they didn’t phase through this time, and the light beamed on.

“Holy shit!” he yelped, the hair on his arms standing up. He couldn’t believe he was so worried about not giving good reactions on camera now that he could see ghosts; this was still so exciting.

“Oh good, you’re going to shit your pants like it’s Sallie House all over again,” Shane commented off-handedly but Ryan could tell he was hiding a smile. “The wires are probably messed up in the flashlight for all you know.”

“Whatever,” Ryan waved him off. “Okay, okay, whoever is here with us, can you turn the light back off?”

Rosa pressed the button again, her face lighting up as Ryan whooped and swore again. “Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel appreciated, huh?”

He flashed her a grin, momentarily not caring if the cameras caught it. “Alright, I’m going to ask you some questions now, if that’s okay. Flash the light on and off once for ‘yes’ and on and off twice for ‘no’. Got it?”

“Seems pretty complicated-,” Shane started but was cut-off by the flashlight blinking once.

“As you were saying?” Ryan smirked.

“Flashlights are cheap and fuck up all the time, just saying.”

Ignoring him, Ryan started checking off all the questions he’d been mentally preparing for days.

“Are we speaking to Rosa Espinoza?”

One blink.

“FUCK! Awesome. Okay, Rosa, were you a nurse here until your death in 1952?”

One blink.

“Were you killed by a Doctor Robert Smith?”

One blink.

He glimpsed at Shane, who, for once, was having the common decency to not be a dick right now.

“Were you and Doctor Smith a couple before he shot you?”

Two blinks.

“Holy shit,” TJ muttered from behind the camera, startling Ryan. Holy hell, if they were getting this kind of reaction out of him, this episode was going to be huge.

“Sweetheart, I think I’ve only got one more in me,” Rosa panted, redrawing his attention. She was more transparent than ever, even the blue outline around her was fading.

Shit, okay. He should have realized that she wouldn’t have the energy to answer all his questions. He’d keep asking them after she was done, to keep up appearances, but he needed to end the proper Q&A on a good one.

“Rosa, do you actually like roses?”

Two blinks.

As soon as the flashlight turned off this time, Rosa curled up half-on, half-in, the floor, her warm brown eyes smiling up at him. She was so translucent now that he almost didn’t notice her, save for her blue aura. Wow.

“Gotta recharge. I might disappear for a bit but I’ll see you again, okay? Blink once for yes.”

One blink.

“So, did you like being a nurse?” Shane asked, taking over from where Ryan paused. The flashlight stayed off as they both asked it more questions that they knew wouldn’t be answered. It was odd, but the adrenaline rush from Rosa being able to answer the ones they she did was enough to offset the awkwardness of literally talking to the air.

Once they were done with their Q&A, they filmed some more footage in the basement, outside of the morgue. It was extremely surreal to be in the small waiting area without the gallons of blood coating the floor and the walls. Despite the fact that there was no leftover stain, he knew exactly where he’d found Shane that night, barely alive. He kept staring at that spot, remembering his impossibly broken body covered in blood and guts and thinking the worst was about to happen. Then came the horns and the tail and everything else fucked up about that night. He finally tore his eyes away to glance at Shane; he, too, was staring at the same spot, his jaw clenched and beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He hadn’t told Ryan any of the details of his big demon fight, so he could only imagine what he was reliving. It was probably corny, but Ryan really wished he could hold his hand right now.

“Um, guys?” TJ cleared his throat, shaking them out of their shared reverie. “Anyone want to say something?”

“Right!” Ryan coughed. “Okay, now we’re right outside the morgue, still on the basement level. Maybe our new nurse friend is somewhere out here now?”

He held his recorder out, although he knew Rosa was nowhere to be seen, even to him. Shane didn’t say much as they continued filming, just throwing out the occasional comment here or there. Ryan didn’t mind, he was not really in the bantering mood, either.

Then it was time to do their solo sessions, back in the morgue. Shane went first, declaring it was a nice quiet five minutes when he was done. Ryan didn’t know what to expect when it was his turn; Rosa was still out of sight.

“Here we go,” he said to the camera. “You know, I’m usually more scared doing these but I don’t feel that here. I know Shane will think I’m crazy but I think we really did talk to Rosa tonight and she doesn’t seem scary at all.”

He waited a few seconds before speaking again. “Of course, I say that now but I’ll probably still freak the fuck out if I hear something while we’re sleeping in here later.”

Without warning, a blue nurse-shaped outline appeared to him on the other side of the wall. Wow, he’d really expected her to be gone longer than that.

“Rosa, are you back here with me?”

She stepped through the wall, not as solid as she’d been earlier, but not nearly as translucent as before.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” she smiled.

“I want to thank you for communicating with us earlier. I know Shane will probably write it off as a flashlight malfunction but I’m pretty sure it was you.”

“I’m dying to know how you can see and hear me like this! I can normally only be seen by humans when someone asks for help, but I can see you still have that fancy equipment on,” she said, gliding to where he was seated. “Can you blink for me, now?”

Ryan blinked his eyes once.

“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together. “Is it your glasses? Is that how you can see me now?”

Two blinks.

“Oh, right, you can hear me too. Silly me. So, it’s you? Gosh, I’ve never met a regular human who could do that before. Witches can sense us, but not like how you’re doing.”

He blinked once, and subtly turned his right palm towards her to show off his scar.

Peering down, her eyes went wide. “Is that...is that what I think it is?”

One blink.

She pointed with her thumb towards the door. “With him?”

One blink.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s wonderful! That means all those other nasty demons are off your trail, now, huh? And wow, you got his sight and hearing? Gee whiz!”

Ryan couldn’t help but grin, her beaming smile was just so infectious. He quickly covered it up with another question for the camera’s sake.

“So, Nurse Rosa, what do you think of your flowers?”

“Oh, they’re wonderful! I love the sunflower the most, of course, but really, they’re all so beautiful,” she gushed. “You boys are so sweet.”

Ryan took a second to make sure he got the wording right here. “We thought you might be a little tired of roses, so we hope you like them. It seems like you were a really nice lady who only wanted to help people and it sucks that your life was ended by some asshole.”

Despite his less than poetic phrasing, tears began to swim in Rosa’s eyes. Ryan continued after clearing his throat.

“And if what you told us through the flashlight is true, I’m so sorry. You wouldn’t have deserved to die anyway, but to be murdered and then have that piece of shit be the only one who got a say in the matter? I’m so sorry. Shit.”

He had to stop to steady himself, his eyes burning. Rosa’s hands were cupping his face as best she could and it was like someone was holding two ice packs as close to his cheeks as they could without touching them. She was silently crying, twin rivers of translucent tears streaming down her face. Shit, he was definitely going to cry, on camera and there was no way it wasn’t going in the episode. Fuck it, this was more important than macho bullshit.

“I hope-I hope we brought you some peace. Or something like it,” his voice cracked. “Jesus Christ, I am crying, actually crying. Wow.”

He wiped under his eyes, making sure to keep them shut in case his glasses got too askew. She bent over and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, a real kiss that he felt.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, before pulling away, her form fading once again. “I have to go again, but find me before you leave, okay?”

One blink.

With a small wave, she phased through the floor, invisible once more.

“Okay, Ryan, your five-,” Shane started, opening the door with the crew right behind him. “Um, Ryan?”

“Gimme a sec,” he said, hurriedly wiping his face with his jacket sleeve.

“Holy shit are you crying?”

“Shut up,” he sniffed, now keenly aware that he was crying on three separate cameras. C’mon, Ryan, get it together.

Stepping up to him, Shane curled his fingers around his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged, not sure how he’d even explain it off-camera to him. “This place, it just...gets to me, I guess.”

“Yeah, you’ve been a little kooky all night,” Shane said, squeezing his shoulder.

“No kidding,” TJ agreed. “Are you sure you guys want to stay here? We’ve got plenty of footage, you don’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan waved him off, finally standing up. “Besides, we might get more evidence.”

“Whatever you say. Just don’t call me at 4am to come get you, alright?”

As they went about setting up for the overnight shoot, Ryan finally felt his emotions calm for the first time since he saw Rosa earlier. It was obvious they had a connection, but he was a little shaken by how easily they were influencing each other’s moods. He wondered if Shane had given him another power but that didn’t really make sense (it’s not like Shane had ever cried on location, tears from laughter at a man shitting himself on stage notwithstanding). Whatever the reason, he was emotionally exhausted. He couldn’t wait to crash, even in a sleeping bag on the hard tile floor in an old morgue.

This time, when the crew left, there was no severe temperature drop, but the mood shifted all the same. All night Ryan had been dying to talk to Shane about everything that was going on, but now that he could (at least, until they got back into the morgue with their static cams), he didn’t have the energy for it.

Shane, however, was not on the same page.

“So,” he said, leaning up against the now-closed front door, his long arms crossed over his chest. “All your worrying was for naught. You’re going to look Looney Toons in this episode.”

“So? Our fans like it when I get all jittery.”

“Ryan,” he said in that way that was simultaneously full of disbelief and concern. “‘Jittery’? Jittery is one-tenth of the things that you were tonight. I’d kill for just jittery.”

He sighed, tipping his head back with his fingers interlaced at the back of his neck. “It’s not like I did it on purpose, you realize that, right? It just...happened.”

“And kept happening.” Shane pushed himself off the door to close the space between them. “Are you okay?”

Ryan dropped his arms with a shrug. “I don’t know. I’m more tired than anything.”

“Emotional connections to ghosts will do that,” he said, squeezing Ryan’s shoulders. “Along with that goddamn nightmare you call a Spirit Box.”

He let out a laugh. “Holy shit, yeah, what the fuck is up with this hearing? Why didn’t you tell me it was that awful?”

“Hey, I complained about it _plenty_ , how was I supposed to know that you humans only heard vaguely irritating white noise?” Shane slid his hands over to cup Ryan’s neck, his fingers brushing against his ears. “I can’t believe you got two out of five of my senses. You were only supposed to get one of my powers, I don’t get it.”

“I do.”

Shane’s eyebrows twitched up. “Explain?”

“The contract said that the powers would choose me, right? So, they chose the ones that would allow me to see and talk to ghosts. Pretty appropriate, huh?”

It’d been in the back of his mind ever since he realized he alone could hear Rosa, but he only just put it together. Shane, unknowingly, had given him everything he’d ever wanted to be an actual ghost hunter.

“Well, shit, when you put it that way...you might be right.”

“Might? Fuck you, I am right.” He lightly shoved Shane away, biting back a grin.

“I suppose stranger things have happened,” he said with a smirk.

“Just physically incapable of not being an asshole, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

They bickered all the way back downstairs until the sight of the once-bloody morgue hallway killed the mood.

“You gonna be able to sleep down here?” Ryan asked, as Shane’s gaze was once again stuck on that same spot.

“Yeah. It’s just...that night sucked.”

He reached for his hand, sliding their fingers together. “If you ever want to talk about it, or whatever, I’m here.”

“I doubt I ever will, but the thought is appreciated.”

Ryan gave his hand a squeeze before turning to the morgue’s doors but Shane tugged on his sleeve, holding him back.

“Wait, I forgot. I got you something.”

“What?”

He reached into his jacket inside pocket and pulled out two black satin sleep masks.

“Here. Now, you don’t have to worry about what the cameras will see if you wake up.”

Ryan took the mask, rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers. “This is perfect, how did we not think of this sooner?”

Shane shrugged. “Toxic masculinity?”

“Probably,” he chuckled. “Did you get one for yourself, too?”

“Yeah, gonna see what the fuss is about. And besides, we haven’t had a new nickname in awhile. We can be the Sleep Masks Boys.”

“Kinda wordy.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

They finally went inside the morgue proper and quickly got ready to go to sleep, feeding some lines for the cameras before turning the lights out. Shane had to help Ryan slip his mask on but otherwise, they were able to fake being just friends as they hunkered down in their sleeping bags. They still hadn’t decided when or how they were going to tell people they were together but spooning on a shoot was probably not the way to go.

For the first time ever on an overnight shoot, Ryan fell asleep easily and slept through the night. Even with his new demonic hearing, he didn’t hear the message Rosa left for him on the audio recorder by her bouquet. It was quiet, even with Buzzfeed’s sound engineers enhancing it, but he knew exactly what she’d said.

“ _Thanks for the sunflower, sweetheart._ ”

This was going to be the best episode ever.


	10. Chapter 10

FIVE MONTHS LATER

“Hey, I’m heading out soon. You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Nah, this is your thing. Besides, if I leave this bed, I’m pretty sure I’ll die.”

“It’s not _that_ early.”

“It’s 6:30 am on a Saturday, it is entirely too early for anything.”

“Whatever. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Don’t forget we’re looking at that place today.”

“Oh shit, yeah. What time?”

“One.”

“Got it. Text me what you want for lunch, I’ll grab something on the way back.”

“Alright. Now go, I’m missing my beauty sleep.”

Ryan bent over to give Shane a quick peck on the lips. “See you later.”

“See you. Tell her hi for me.”

“I will.”

Soon, Ryan was on the road with his largest travel mug filled with piping hot coffee, making his way outside the city to the now-ultra familiar haunted hospital. He was going to be early, but he’d missed the last few weekends so he didn’t think she’d mind.

About an hour later, he pulled into the corner parking spot in front of St. Francis’s, furthest away from the security cameras but still on the property. He was pretty sure no one ever looked at that footage anyway, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. He flashed the lights three times before turning the car off and settling back in his seat with the end of his coffee.

To his surprise, the blue outline of a nurse manifested on the other side of the hospital wall only a few moments later. Sometimes he had to wait awhile for her to show up; ghosts weren’t great at remembering what day of the week it was.

Gliding into his passenger seat, Rosa smiled.

“Hey, sweetheart! You’re early.”

“Yeah, hope that’s okay.”

“It’s not like I was doing anything else,” she said with a little shrug. “How were your trips? Meet any other ghosts?”

“Sort of. The first place, in Montana, had a demon who just yelled at Shane the whole time, so he, of course, yelled back like a lunatic. Got some footstep noises on camera, but that was it. And last weekend, we were in New Mexico at a hotel and there were a couple guys, cowboys who were killed, but they wouldn’t talk to me or come near me at all.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. Maybe they were distracted, reliving something?” she suggested.

“No, I think they were just racist, actually.”

They laughed, with Rosa shaking her head. “Their loss. When’s the next time they’re going to meet someone who can communicate with them?”

“Not until some other human marries his demonic boyfriend so they can keep ghost hunting together,” he said, pulling out his iPad from the backseat. “Speaking of, I’ve got something to show you.”

“Oh?”

He opened the YouTube app, where the Unsolved network was the homepage. “Your episode finally aired a couple weeks ago. You want to watch it?”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” she clapped, even though it made no noise. “I can’t believe I’m on TV!”

Ryan smiled, forgoing his usual explanation that Unsolved wasn’t really “TV”, at least how Rosa knew it. It had been hard enough to explain the internet to a ghost who died over sixty years ago, let alone YouTube.

He set the iPad up in its case on the dash so they could both watch and hit play.

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate St. Francis’s Hospital as part of our ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?”

Just like how Shane always shook his head, Rosa always nodded. Ryan wasn’t sure which he found more endearing at this point.

The episode started slow and a little awkward, thanks to Ryan having to explain their two-night investigation and cutting between both intros. This one had been a bear to edit and Ryan’s perfectionist tendencies almost got the better of him, to the point where the graphics crew called Shane to literally escort him away from their desk area because he was nitpicking Rosa’s avatar so much.

When the on-screen Ryan and Shane entered the hospital’s nursery, the real Ryan straightened up, his stomach twisting into knots worrying over her reaction.

“Any nasty evil ghost doctors want to stab me with a scalpel?” on-screen Shane said in an obnoxious voice while on-screen Ryan was peering around at the opposite wall. A few seconds later, he jumped, screaming “FUCK”.

“What is it?”

“I-I heard..I heard a voice. From over there.”

“That voice was me!” Rosa said delightedly. “Oh wow, look at you! You’re about to jump out of your skin!”

“Yeah, I was pretty...all over the place once you showed up,” he admitted. “I think it’s because you were so excited, too, you know?”

“Right. Our connection,” she nodded before her nose twisted up. “Oh no, that stupid box again.”

“I know, I know, but watch Shane have to try and deny what you said. It’s hilarious!”

* _static* ”TALL why boy wi GI-NT head_.” * _static*_

The scene cut to Ryan and Shane in the sound booth, giant headphones covering their ears.

“It just sounds like nonsense to me,” Shane said with a shrug.

Ryan wheezed. “Oh my God, how? It’s literally describing _you_!”

“Yeah, that’s me, the ta-why-bo-jai-he! My mom always said I’d grow up to be one!”

Ryan was giggling in the car all over again, watching Shane bullshit his way through mocking the evidence. He really thought it’d bother him to know that he was lying about this stuff, now, but Ryan had grown to respect it, in a way. It helped that he did those dumb voices that always made Ryan laugh.

Rosa was laughing too, shaking her head. “Do people take him seriously?”

“More do him than me.”

She was scandalized. “How?!”

“Lots of people don’t want to believe in all this. It’s easier that way.”

“If they only knew, huh?”

“Right? Oh hey, here we go.”

He pointed to the screen as his narration of Rosa’s murder began. His voiceover played over a photo of her, only cutting to one of Dr. Smith’s at the last second. He didn’t want that asshole to get any more recognition than he already had, even if he had been dead for years.

Rosa sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. “You’d think I wouldn’t get like this hearing about it, still.”

“I think it’d be weirder if you didn’t,” he told her with a reassuring smile.

The episode then went back to Ryan and Shane, back in the morgue with the bouquet and the flashlight Q&A. When it blinked twice for no on the “Were you and Doctor Smith a couple?” question, Rosa let a dry sob, overcome with emotion. Ryan paused the video, needing a minute himself.

“You okay?” he asked her.

“Yes, it’s just...to see it. To see _me_ , get my side of the story out there,” she paused to steady herself. “I’ve waited 66 years, Ryan.”

“I know.” He held his right hand out against the center console, palm up, and she rested her left on it. It didn’t matter that they weren’t actually touching, they’d long since gotten past that.

Ryan restarted the video, which continued with some more questions that Rosa hadn’t answered, and he and Shane’s mutually strange behavior in the waiting area. Shane had covered it up by claiming exhaustion, but it was kind of unnerving to watch them both stare at a blank spot on the floor that no one else could understand the significance of. Rosa did, though.

“He ever tell you about that big fight?”

“Nope.”

“Demons,” she sighed.

“Tell me about it.”

Next were the solo sessions in the morgue. Shane, as always, was simultaneously bored and amused, asking questions he knew he’d never get any answers to. Ryan squirmed, knowing what was coming next. He’d gotten over a lot of his bullshit in the past couple years, but he was probably always going to be uncomfortable watching himself cry.

They’d cut out the couple minutes of him silently blinking to her so it jumped right into him asking if she liked the flowers and his subsequent tears.

“Aw, sweetheart. Crying’s good for you, you know,” she said comfortingly.

“I know, it’s just weird to do it on camera for everyone to see. And in my defense, it was sort of your fault,” he pointed out.

“Only because you said all those nice things!”

“Ugh, fine,” he conceded.

The episode was almost at the end now, mostly focusing on Ryan and Shane getting ready to spend the night and talking to the cameras about sleeping there for a second time. Then Ryan’s narration cut-in again, over footage of he and Shane fast asleep.

“At around 5:15 am, the audio recorder by Rosa’s plaque picked up this:”

“ _Thanks for the sunflower, sweetheart._ ”

In the car, Rosa jumped so high that if she had been solid, she would have definitely knocked her head on the ceiling. “It worked!”

“How did you do that without me hearing you?”

“I thought I was going to wake you up, to be honest. But you were really conked out,” she said, her eyes brighter than he’d ever seen them. “That’s my voice! On television!”

“Yup. Even Shane didn’t go down too hard on it.”

“Really?”

He nodded to the screen, where they were back in the sound booth.

“You’re going to say you don’t hear it, aren’t you?” on-screen Ryan asked Shane, who had his fingers tented over his nose and mouth.

“No, I do hear _something_. It’s faint, but I can make out ‘flowers’. The rest I’m not so sure.”

“And what’s your big scientific explanation for that?”

“You do talk an awful lot in your sleep.”

“What?! I do not, and even if I did, that’s not my voice at all!”

“You _absolutely_ talk in your sleep.”

“We are not having this conversation right now. Anyway, I’m 99% sure it’s Rosa thanking us for the sunflower in her bouquet, I don’t care what you say.”

Ryan’s narration started again, over footage of him and Shane waking up and leaving the hospital.

“St. Francis’s Hospital held more mysteries than we expected, not only of whether or not it is definitively haunted, but whether or not Rosa Espinoza’s murderer was telling the truth about why he killed her.  And while I believe that I communicated with her tonight and that she shed some light on both of those questions, they will, officially, remain unsolved.”

Once the episode ended, Rosa couldn’t stop smiling. “Oh sweetheart, that was wonderful! I can’t thank you enough, really.”

He felt the apples of cheeks warm. “Yeah? I think the beginning’s kind of weird but I ran out of time before it had to go live. I really wanted to make sure this one was good.”

She kissed his cheek, a real kiss. “It was perfect.”

YouTube started auto-playing the next video, which was the post-mortem for her episode. Ryan went to pause it, but Rosa stopped him.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s just a Q&A thing we do after every episode. People send in questions, we answer them. We don’t have to watch-,”

She interrupted. “Oh, I want to see!”

He sighed, settling back in his seat. There wasn’t anything in it he didn’t want her to see, but he really did not want to even attempt to explain the Hot Daga.

“Welcome to the Buzzfeed Unsolved Post-Mortem, where we answer your questions about the latest episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved, which was St. Francis’s Hospital. Lot of stuff going on in this one, huh?”

Shane nodded. “Yeah, I am kind of curious what the questions are going to be this week, like more so than usual.”

“Let’s get started with YouTube. JackieT asks ‘what the hell Ryan???’”

On-screen Ryan half-laughed, half-sighed. “Okay, yeah, let’s get into this since we got a lot of questions about that. I was a little kooky in this one, I admit it.”

“That is an understatement. Kooky is here,” Shane set his hand in the middle of the table. “You were in the Pacific ocean.”

“Funny. Look, I can’t explain it. I know that’s a cop-out of an answer, but I can’t. That hospital just got under my skin, the energy there was unlike anything else I’ve ever felt. And I know that you’re going to say it’s bullshit-,”

“I don’t think it’s bullshit,” Shane cut him off.

“Then what, I’m going crazy?”

“Maybe,” a sly grin grew over his face before he turned to the camera with a more stern look. “But seriously, I want to say something here because I saw you getting a lot of shit on social media for acting up for the cameras and faking it, and that’s just not true. I don’t understand what was going on with you in that hospital, but I know that it was real, at least, real to you. And it got to me, a little, too, when we were in the basement. It’s just...very sad, what happened here. Regardless of whether I or anyone else believes Rosa was there with us, she did pass away there, and you can feel that. So, I think since Ryan is so keyed up, anyway, that place just multiplied it by a thousand for him.”

Both current Ryan and on-screen Ryan blushed. Shane standing up for him, in the one place where he got paid to do the opposite of that, still made him feel warm all over.

“Wow, thanks Big Guy. I’m not used to you so graciously reaching across the aisle to us Boogaras like that,” on-screen Ryan smiled.

“Don’t get used to it. I still think that Spirit Box ‘evidence’ was bull pie.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

The Post-Mortem continued, with them answering questions about whether or not Rosa might have been a demon fucking with them (actual Rosa laughed out loud at that one) and viewers attempting to come up with better names than ‘Sleep Masks Boys’ (Sleepy Boys was the winner, for now), before the final question.

“Last one, from Gram Town. Everybodysweird69 asked ‘So, boys, gotta ask. What’s up w/ you 2 lately? #nojudgement #feelfreetoignore #shaniac’.”

On-screen Shane shared a significant look with on-screen Ryan. They’d discussed this beforehand, so it wasn’t a surprise question or anything, just a decent excuse to announce it.

Shane laid his arm out on the table, palm up, and Ryan placed his own on top, sliding their fingers together.

Real Ryan still got nervous watching it. It had been awkward enough to tell their coworkers (especially since they had fill out a bunch of forms. Who was worse about that, demons or humans? Ryan wasn’t sure.) but telling the world was another thing. He’d been afraid that their fans knowing of their relationship would color their perceptions of the show but he also didn’t want anyone to think he was ashamed of Shane. Well, not because they were both guys. He was still plenty ashamed of Shane in regular ways (who puts ice cubes in milk besides an actual goddamn demon?), just not in a relationship way.

“So,” on-screen Ryan said. “This is what’s up.”

“And it’s not a joke. We’re assholes but not _those_ kinds of assholes.”

“Yeah. It’s been going on for awhile now, but we wanted to make sure it would work out before telling you guys. It shouldn’t affect the show, though. He’s still going to be a completely stubborn dick about everything.”

“And he’s going to be completely off-his-rocker nuts about everything.”

They laughed together, Shane adjusting his grip on Ryan’s hand before speaking again. “But we do have a ground rule. We’re not going to answer questions about us, not on here.”

“Yeah, some things have to stay private, you know? So, please, continue to send your questions in, but only if they’re about Unsolved. Guarantee we won’t read any others, so don’t waste your energy typing them up.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Shane said, staring down at the camera with piercing eyes. “If any of you sons o’bitches got anything to negative to say about us ‘cause we’re two guys? I’ll collect your fucking heads.”

“Little Lucy Liu in Kill Bill action there, huh?”

“I was channeling her, yes.”

“Who in what now?” Rosa asked, utterly bewildered.

“It’s a movie,” Ryan explained.

The Post-Mortem continued onto the Hot Daga and Ryan quickly grabbed the iPad off his dash, claiming the battery was low. It had been an especially painful one; Shane had introduced sentient popcorn that rapped all of her lines.

“So, you two, you told everyone?” Rosa asked as Ryan dumped the tablet in his backseat. “Are people okay with it?”

“For the most part, yeah. It’s only been a couple weeks, though, I’m sure some dickheads will come out of the woodwork at some point.”

“Wow.” Her head shook slightly. “My tío, Javier, I wish he’d lived to see that. I told you about him, right?”

“Yeah. It’s not perfect, but it is better than it was in his time.”

Rosa had told him about her “different” uncle who had a male roommate well into his forties not long after they’d started hanging out. He was her only reference for a not-straight person, and she didn’t always have the most “woke” view on everything, but as she was, technically, older than both of Ryan’s grandmothers, he usually cut her some slack. She tried, at least.

They chatted for awhile, Rosa telling him old stories about the hospital and making tamales with her abuela, while Ryan mostly just listened. Some weeks it was the opposite, with him venting to her about some dumb demon tendency of Shane’s or telling her about any ghosts or demons he met on their investigations. They’d made this arrangement the morning after their lock-in, and it was exactly what they both needed: someone to talk to.

At around 10:30, Ryan realized he needed to get going if he was going to pick up lunch and be back in time for their appointment.

“Hey, sorry, I need to get on the road,” he told her. “Shane and I are looking at apartments this afternoon.”

“I still think you’re moving in together awfully fast,” she said, peering down her nose at him.

“Hey, rent is a nightmare in LA, two incomes is really helpful!” he pointed out. “And besides, we said nothing more than that, not until we lived together for awhile.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m just old fashioned like that.”

“That’s okay. And technically, we are already married. Just not in the traditional sense.”

“That’s true,” she smiled, turning her body to rest the side of her head against the headrest. It worked, sort of. “Do you think you ever will do it? The human way?”

Ryan shifted, resting his back against the car door to face her. “I think so. I can’t imagine being with anyone else, especially since I’d have to explain all this,” he plucked his glasses off, waving them around a bit. “But it’s not just that. I mean, we both gave up a lot to stay together already, and I don’t want it to be for nothing. He’s a demon asshole, but he’s _my_ demon asshole.”

She laughed softly. “Those should be your vows.”

“Oh God.” The back of his head hit the car window. “I just imagined Shane writing wedding vows and I swear, my soul almost left my body. He’d make them _so weird_ and probably throw the Hot Daga in there just to fuck with me.”

“The Hot what?”

“Super long horrible story, remind me to never tell you.”

“Okay, well now I’ve got to know!”

They giggled as Ryan checked the time. Damn, he really had to get a move on. “Rain check, okay? I’ve really got to get back.”

“Alright, alright. But I’m holding you to that!” she said, pointing a spectral finger in his face.

He started the car and adjusted himself back in the seat properly, with his glasses on. Rosa leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, while he squeezed her hand. All flesh against flesh, one hot, one cold.

“See you later, sweetheart.”

“Until next time, Rosa.”

She drifted out of the car and back towards her home, waving as he pulled out of the parking lot. Neither Ryan nor Shane still really understood why he was so connected to her, and vice versa, but Ryan had stopped caring about the “why” long ago because honestly, it didn’t matter. Rosa was his friend, his only friend (besides Shane) that he could talk to about supernatural stuff, and he was her only friend, period. Ryan wasn’t generally a big believer in fate, but it definitely felt like the universe had brought them together for a reason.

He felt that way about Shane, sometimes, too. It hadn’t been fate that brought them together (that blame went to Lucille, which she deeply resented), but everything they’d been through felt like a necessary precursor to where they were now. From coworkers to best friends to boyfriends, from humans to a human and a demon to a little bit of both, from amateur detectives to amateur ghost hunters to an actual ghost whisperer and his annoyed demon partner, it just all made sense to him.

He told Shane this once and he disagreed. “I don’t think we makes sense _at all_ but I love that you think we do.”

“Why don’t we make sense to you?”

“Because no one in their right mind would love a demon,” he’d paused, rubbing his chin. “On second thought, nevermind. That does make a lot of sense.”

Ryan grinned at the memory, recalling how he’d launched himself at him on the couch, pinning him down for being such a dick.

Not even a second later, Ryan’s stereo cut-out, the music being replaced by his ringtone. Shane’s name popped up on his car’s dash screen, and he clicked the green phone icon to answer the call.

“Speak of the devil.”

“That hasn’t been funny the first one hundred times you’ve used it,” Shane yawned from the other line.

“Like that’s ever stopped you.”

“Fair. Hey, wanna do In ‘n Out for lunch?”

“Always. You want your usual?”

“Animal style, baby!”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Nah, that’ll be fine.” Ryan heard him roll over, the phone’s speakers pressing against a pillow. Lazy bastard was still in bed. “Hey, how was Rosa? Did she like her episode?”

“Yup, she loved it.”

“Told you she would. You got all anxious over nothing.”

“I still think the beginning could have used another pass-,”

Shane groaned. “Holy shit, _stop_. I cannot hear about this one more time, I will leave this mortal coil so you can nitpick the editing all by yourself.”

“Hey, you can’t leave me. I have to wear giant wraparound goggles to the beach now because I kept you here,” Ryan said.

“Aw, they’re cute, though. You look like an old school cartoon superhero with them on.”

“I look like an old geezer who is almost legally blind.”

“Ryan, no old man has arms like yours, and if they do, we have need to find him and proposition him for a threesome immediately.”

He wheezed, tossing his head back against the seat. “Nope, nope, not happening.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted.

“I’m plenty fun.”

“Mmhmm,” Shane murmured unconvincingly. “Hey, seriously, though. You know I’d never actually leave you, right?”

“I know,” Ryan said, squeezing his right hand around the steering wheel, rubbing his scar against the leather grip. “Because if you did, I would literally, actually, fucking kill you.”

“So romantic, I’m gettin’ all flustered over here,” Shane said with a southern belle accent.

He cleared his throat, going full Ricky Goldsworth. “Oh yeah? If you liked that, I got one more for you. If you even _dare_ to try to put your insane Hot Daga bullshit into our weddings vows, I will literally stab you at the altar.”

Shane sputtered, a long laugh escaping his lips. “Well, that escalated quickly. What brought that on?”

“Just something I thought of while talking to Rosa and I figured I should put it out there.”

“Well, if we do get married, again, the Hot Daga will not be involved in the ceremony at all. I promise you.”

“Good. I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I know you will.”

They hung up soon after that and Ryan spent the rest of his drive and burger pick-up idly wondering what an actual wedding to Shane would be like. Would Lucille have to pose as his mother? Jesus Christ, that’d be hilarious. And terrifying. Of course, they’d have to get engaged first, which wouldn’t be on the table for awhile, anyway. First, they needed to live together and figure out how not to drive the other one crazy when it came to getting a pet (Shane kept pushing for cats because of course he was a cat person. Demon. Whatever.)

Still, as he waited on their burgers, his mind wandered, imagining how he’d do it. How he’d propose. Not some big public thing (although forcing Shane to go to a Lakers game and be proposed to there did have its twisted appeal) but maybe not totally private either. Maybe at a nice dinner? Or was that too boring and cliche? That was probably too boring and cliche.

Of course, there was the possibility that Shane would get to it, first. One of the perks of them both being dudes, the pressure wasn’t on one of them in particular. Then again, Shane would probably do something really, really goofy, like hire a skywriter or blurt it out during sex. The fact that neither of those options made him cringe said a lot about how far gone he was for Shane.

He still wasn’t getting a cat, though.


	11. Chapter 11

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today was the day. And Shane had never been so nervous in his life, not even that time his invisibility spell fucked up at Ben Franklin’s sex cult party. (Thankfully, the patrons thought his horns were part of a costume before he could disappear again. The 1700s were weird). It didn’t matter that he knew what Ryan’s answer would be. It was still pretty goddamn nerve wracking to propose. How did humans do this all throughout history?

“You look nice today,” Ryan commented as Shane buttoned-up his most beloved floral shirt.

“Me? You’re wearing a blazer. _To work_ ,” Shane pointed out. “Are all your t-shirts dirty? And your jerseys?”

“Shut up, we’re filming the season finale for the Post-Mortem. I wanted to look snazzy.”

He smoothed down the lapels of Ryan’s blazer and adjusted the collar where it was flipping up. “Well, mission accomplished. I’m into it.”

“Thanks.” He flashed him that megawatt smile, and Shane’s insides twisted up. After all this time, he still got butterflies from him.

“Did you feed Marty?” Shane asked, returning to his buttons.

“Yeah. I’ve got the coffee going if you want some, too.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How long have you been awake for, exactly?”

Ryan rolled his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Just like an hour. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

Hmm. Ryan was not the world’s longest sleeper, anyway, but he was more likely to stay up too late instead of waking up too early. And he’s wearing that blazer Kristin picked out for him...shit. Could he know?

As soon as Ryan slipped his shoes on and left their bedroom, Shane tore into his own laptop bag until his fingers clutched the small velvet box hidden in the exact same pocket he’d left it in. Phew. Maybe he did just want to dress nice for the season finale. Stranger things had happened.

Not long after, they headed off to work, Shane making sure to give Marty some chin scratches with one clawed finger on the way out. Ryan pretended he found it insufferable, but Shane knew he thought it was cute.

Work was pretty much a lost cause from the moment he plopped into his desk chair. He had a ton to do, as Ruining History was about to start again, but he couldn’t stay focused, waiting on 4:30, and the Post-Mortem filming, to come. His gaze kept flicking over to Ryan, all business with his headphones in, perusing some unsolved mysteries Reddit for cases. It was like any other Friday to him. Good.

At around 4, Shane snuck off to the studio to plant his little velvet box under his side of the table. TJ was already there, setting up the lighting.

“You didn’t tell anyone, right?” Shane asked, as he taped the box in place.

“Of course not, why?”

“He dressed up today. He never dresses up.”

“Dude, you’re way overthinking this. You’re not supposed to turn into each other until _after_ you get married.”

“Shit, you’re right,” he rubbed his hands over his face before giving TJ a pat on the back. “You’re one of the good ones, Teej.”

“Good what?”

“Humans.”

He laughed, oblivious to Shane’s real meaning. Ah, someday he’d get tired of those little jokes or hints, but today was not that day.

Once it was time to film, Shane felt a hint of nerves wafting off of Ryan, but nothing too strong, so he was confident his proposal would be a total surprise. They got through the questions, plugged some stuff on the channel to watch in between seasons, and then it was time.

Shane whipped out his phone, opening to his 389 page Hot Daga document.

“Our weekly Q and A concluded, we now welcome you to the part of the show-,”

“Nope.”

Ryan yanked Shane’s phone out of his hand, stuffing it in his blazer pocket. It happened so fast that Shane couldn’t react immediately, just staring dumbfounded at his empty hand.

“What the hell?”

“No Hot Daga today.”

“Ryan, it’s the season finale!” he squawked, eyes flickering to TJ, who was pointedly not looking at him. “Give me my phone back!”

“Nah, I got something better. Which could be anything, since literally everything is better than the Hot Daga, but trust me, it’s better.”

Shane reached for his blazer pocket, trying to grasp his phone, but Ryan batted him off with ease, eventually tossing the phone over his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“It’s in a case.”

“Ryan!” He stood up to go retrieve his phone but Ryan blocked him.

“Sit down, Shane. Please?”

Swallowing, he sat back down, once again glancing to TJ, eyes pleading for help, but his nose was buried in a camera. Goddammit, he was officially off the “good humans” list.

“What’s going on, Ryan?”

He turned his chair around so he could face Shane properly, and pulled out his own phone to read something. His slight nerves from earlier were still there, but otherwise, Shane had no idea what the fuck was happening right now.

“I just wanted to let you, and all of our viewers, know how much I have loved doing this show with you. It’s been a dream job that I never knew could exist. Couple of Ghoul Boys stomping around old haunted houses and talking old crimes together? I’ve loved it, every second. Except for maybe that Bermuda Triangle episode.”

Shane couldn’t help but cut-in with a smirk. “Underwater Area 51?”

Ryan lightly kicked him before continuing on. “But as much I love this show, I don’t love it as much as I love you.”

Oh shit. Oh no. Oh fuck.

Shane’s heart began to throb in his ears and sweat formed across his forehead. Please just be a nice romantic gesture, not _the_ nice romantic gesture.

“As much as you drive me crazy, as stubborn of an asshole as you can be, I can’t seem to stay mad at you. You make me laugh more than anyone in the world, you know how to calm me down, which isn’t easy, and you did the unthinkable: you gave me courage, the one thing I thought I’d never have. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You’re an anomaly.”

Ryan sniffed and oh fuck. Shane couldn’t move. He had to, he had to get in there first, but he couldn’t get his limbs to respond.

“We’ve been through so much, way more than anyone else knows. We’ve literally been to hell and back, and come out stronger on the other side. We almost lost each other once, and even though I could have kept going without you, I chose not to. Because it’s not that I _can’t_ do this without you. It’s that I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to do anything without you.”

Fingers trembling now, Ryan reached inside his blazer to pull out a small black velvet box and Shane’s brain finally snapped back to life, no longer frozen by Ryan’s monologuing.

“No!” He lunged forward to clasp his hands around Ryan’s and the box. Ryan jumped in his seat, his eyebrows twisting up in confusion.

“What?”

“You can’t!” Shane said, voice raspier than he would ever want to admit.

“Why?” Ryan asked quietly, nerves and distress rolling off of him in waves now.

“‘Cause I had a whole thing!” Shane nodded towards his discarded phone behind him.

Ryan’s had swiveled back and forth a couple times, from the phone to whatever surely manic expression was currently on Shane’s face. Slowly, his eyes grew wide behind his glasses.

“Shane...what. What was going to happen during the Hot Daga?”

He reached under the table to grab his own black velvet box. With tape still attached to the bottom, he set it on the table between them.

“This.”

Despite there being a few other people in the room, it was deadly quiet. Shane chanced a glance at the crew; TJ was trying very hard to be cool and almost succeeding, Devon was holding a notebook over her face, save for her eyes, and even Mark was threatening to have an emotion from behind his camera.

Ryan stared at Shane’s box for a few moments before pushing Shane away from him, back into his own chair.

“You fucking asshole, you promised me not to bring the Hot Daga into wedding shit!”

“You specifically said no Hot Daga in _vows_ , not proposals. I remember because that’s when I got the idea.”

Ryan was trying so hard to be mad but he couldn’t control his smile, and neither could Shane.

“Who gets to ask, now? You stepped all over my big ending.”

“Hey, I didn’t even get to do _mine_ , you sneaky little shit.”

“Okay, then you go.”

Shane cleared his throat, slipping out of his seat to kneel on the floor. “Ryan Steven Bergara, commissioner of the Hot Daga-,”

“Goddammit, Shane.”

“Ghost hunter, one half of the Ghoul slash Berry boys, Lakers fan, a bit of a nutcase, and my favorite person in the world, you are all of these things. But there’s one more thing I’d love for you to be.”

He popped open the box. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

Ryan opened his own box, copying Shane’s kneeling pose in front of him. “Let’s do it.”

Fumbling due to their shaking hands, it took them a few moments to slide the rings onto each other’s fingers, soft giggles escaping their throats. In all of Shane’s life, _all of it_ , he’d never felt like this before. Never felt this full of any emotion, let alone love. It didn’t make sense, he was a creature of darkness and fear and pain, that’s what was supposed to make him happy, not a guy with a gigantic smile and a closet full of basketball jerseys who loved amusement parks and talking to ghosts in about equal measure. And that guy certainly wasn’t supposed to love him back, not this much.

An anomaly, that’s what Ryan had called him. Well, if Shane was one, Ryan was right there with him.

“Oh my God, kiss already!” TJ finally shouted.

Grinning so hard that his cheeks ached, Shane grabbed Ryan’s face to press their lips together. The crew finally let out all their whoops and hollers they’d obviously been holding in (even Mark cheered), as Shane and Ryan stood up, still in a tight embrace.

“I can’t believe you were gonna make the Hot Daga part of this,” Ryan muttered against his mouth.

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to marry you. _Again_ ,” he added in a low whisper.

“At least this time we only share last names and tax returns,” he whispered back, cupping Ryan’s cheek with his right palm, his thumb edging his glasses.

They kissed again but were quickly pulled apart by their friends offering hugs and congratulations. TJ, especially, was relieved, as Ryan had told him about his plans, too.

“You two are seriously going to be the death of me someday. I want a Best Man spot for keeping both of your secrets, even from my wife, for the past few weeks,” he demanded, clapping them both on the back.

“Ryan has his brother, so you can be mine,” Shane offered. TJ was back on the good list, for now, at least.

It didn’t take long for word to spread throughout the office that the Ghoul Boys were going to become the Ghoul Husbands, and so an impromptu engagement party sprung up in the break room. Pizzas were delivered, booze runs were made, and every cheesy 90s wedding song in existence was played, ad nauseum. Shane lost count of the shots he had been given but it was more than he’d had in a long time. He still had a decent tolerance (thanks height) but the alcohol was starting to get to him, in a rather inconveniencing way.

“Ryan,” he yell-whispered, pulling him away from Kristin and Devin. “We should go soon.”

“Why? It’s our party!”

Hunched over, he cupped his hand around his mouth to whisper into Ryan’s ear. “I’m a little drunk and my little friend came out to play and I can’t get it to go away because we’re too full of good feelings.”

“Little friend? Oh shit, _your tail_?” he gasped, obviously seeing it through Shane’s very crowded pants.

“We need to get the fuck outta here, baby.”

Ryan nodded. “Get us a ride home, I’ll start saying bye to people.”

Shane ordered them an Uber while Ryan carried most of the load of insisting they had to get home to feed their cat and celebrate in private. Thankfully, Shane kept a hoodie at his desk, so he was able to tie that around his waist so no one would notice the twelve or so inches of a spiked tail protruding against his ass and the back of his thighs.

The car ride was awkward as hell, with Shane having to basically sit sideways so as to not crush his tail and he wasn’t able to say anything about it, not in front of their driver, anyway. Ryan reached over to hold his hand, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand.

“We’re good. Just relax,” he reassured him.

“Thanks,” he said, giving Ryan’s hand a squeeze.

“Shit!” he gasped, yanking his fingers away.

Confused, Shane glanced down, and _oh no._ His claws were out.

Before he could react, Ryan fisted the sleeve of his shirt and jerked him down so that his head was now pressed uncomfortably in Ryan’s lap.

“Hey, no funny business! This is my car, you know!” the driver warned them.

“It’s not like that, he’s just...got a headache, that’s all,” Ryan quickly covered.

Bewildered, Shane tried to sit back up, but Ryan stopped him, his fingers holding him in place by curling tightly around one of his horns.

Oh no.

This was bad, so fucking bad. Desperately, Shane tried to reapply his appearance glamour but he was tapped out. He was filled with too much unadulterated joy and booze, and he had no magic left. Ever since he’d become mortal, he’d been wondering what his new true alcohol tolerance was, but this was not exactly how he wanted to find out.

As deeply uncomfortable as he was, with the seat belt digging into chest, his tail crowded by his stupid skinny pants, he didn’t dare risk moving, lest he accidentally claw or stab Ryan. The most he could do was mumble against Ryan’s leg.

“Sorry. I don’t even feel _that_ drunk.”

“S’okay. I know what I signed up for,” he said, rubbing his fingers against the base of his horn where it met his skull. Shit, _that_ was a new and wonderful feeling.

They stayed quiet the rest of the car ride, until their driver pulled into their apartment complex’s parking lot. Ryan slid out of the car first, talking to their driver about some basketball nonsense while he shrugged off his blazer and tossed it on Shane’s head.

“This is gonna be the year, I feel it! It’ll be like the Kobe and Shaq days, all over again,” he said, leaning back in to unbuckle Shane’s seatbelt.

“Nah, the Warriors are still California’s team, buddy,” their driver disagreed.

With Ryan’s help, Shane crawled out of the Uber, staying as hunched over as possible, with the blazer covering the top of his head. He could not imagine how stupid and suspicious he looked right now, but Ryan’s basketball talk had distracted their driver enough not to notice.

Ryan bade goodbye to their driver while Shane stayed doubled over, pretending to have a stomach problem so no one would notice his long, ibex-like horns about to poke through Ryan’s blazer. Soon, he felt Ryan wrap Shane’s left arm around his shoulder and across his chest.

“I got you, Big Guy.”

Shane let Ryan lead them into their complex, his vision mostly blocked by the jacket. Thankfully, no one else was around and they were able to take the elevator alone.

“I feel like we’ve done this before,” Shane said, squeezing his arm around Ryan’s chest.

“Yup. How are you so bad at being drunk? You’re a gazillion years old.”

“You bring out the worst in me.”

Ryan chuckled, a wheeze that still made Shane’s stomach all floaty. He wondered if it ever wouldn’t? He hoped not.

Soon, the elevator dinged and they were able to shuffle back to their apartment unseen. Once inside, Shane finally stood up all the way, stretching as his back straightened out.

“Phew. Close call, good thinking with this,” he said, flinging Ryan’s blazer off his horns and onto the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, worrying his bottom lip. “This isn’t going to be a thing, though, is it? I know you don’t have as much magic as you used to but this hasn’t happened before.”

“I don’t think so. I think tonight we’re both just too happy. And I had at least three too many shots. Bad combo for demon magic, apparently.”

“We do not have normal problems,” he reckoned, falling against Shane’s chest, tucking his head under his chin.

“Nope.”

Shane went to hug him close but stopped, not wanting to cut him with his claws, letting his arms hang awkwardly by his side. Ryan either didn’t notice or didn’t care, reaching down to tangle their fingers together with both hands.

“Ryan,” Shane warned, forcing his claws to stay outstretched.

“I don’t care,” he said, tipping his head up to press a kiss to Shane’s bottom lip and chin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he breathed.

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ryan groaned in frustration, pulling back. “First of all, if you think a little bit of demon shit is going to keep me from fucking you the night we _got engaged_ , you’re crazy. Second of all, we have a magic healing potion, just in case. Third of all,” he started unbuttoning Shane’s shirt. “We don’t need your fingers. We’ve got mine.”

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, shifting uncomfortably in his pants and not just because of his tail. “You’re on a different level tonight.”

Ryan helped him shrug out of the shirt before beginning to unbutton his own. “What do you mean?”

“You’re all cocky and self-assured. You weren’t even that nervous, earlier,” he said, pointing out his ring. “It’s just not what I expected.”

“It’s like I said, I’m all brave and shit, now. And it’s all your fault,” he grinned, tossing both their shirts onto the coffee table, next to his blazer. Immediately, Marty hopped up to curl up in a loaf on top of them.

“Well, I’m glad one of us is getting something good out of all these gooey feelings.”

Ryan hooked a finger through Shane’s front belt loop and yanked him close. “C’mon, Big Guy. I think we both will.”

Shane caught his lips, mumbling against them. “I’m yours.”

Back in their bedroom, with the door closed to keep their nosy black cat out, they finished undressing and Shane sat down on the king size bed.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Shane asked, flexing his claws. “I could file them down but it’d take awhile. Kind of a mood killer.”

“Gimme a sec,” Ryan said, rummaging through their closet. “Here, got it.”

He emerged with a skinny black tie, the only tie Ryan owned, and crawled onto the bed. “Let me see them.”

Ah-ha, he saw where he was going with this. Shane laid his hands in Ryan’s lap, wrists facing each other, and Ryan began to loop the tie around them.

“Is it too tight?” he asked as he was about to knot it in place.

“Nah, it’s good.” He wiggled his wrists to show him that he had plenty of room to move them around. Since this was less about bondage and more about keeping his claws from scratching either of them, it was enough. “Smart idea.”

He finished tying the tie in a lopsided bow. “Thanks. Here’s another one: get on your elbows and knees.”

“Wait, if we’re gonna do this,” Shane reached up with his bound wrists and very gingerly pulled on Ryan’s glasses. He didn’t pull them off all the way, just down his nose a bit. “Let’s both just be us. No tricks, no spells. Just you and me.”

He stared at him for a minute, his pupils searching Shane’s face for an answer. Shane just nodded, trying to reassure him it was okay. Finally, Ryan pulled the glasses off the rest of the way and set them on the bedside table.

It had been awhile since Shane had really seen his true eyes like this. Sure, if he walked in on Ryan in the shower or sometimes in the morning if he woke up first, he’d catch sight of them, but not this up close and personal. They used to fill him with such shame, such guilt for giving them to Ryan, but now...now, he found himself unable to stop staring at them. No one else got to see this, just like how no one else got to see Shane like he currently was. It was just for each other.

Ryan leaned in first but Shane met him halfway, pressing their lips together. They kissed like that for a few moments, softly, without haste, just taking each other in, before Shane pulled back.

“So. Elbows and knees, you said?”

“Yup,” Ryan said, popping the ‘p’ with a loud smack of his lips.

With a nod, Shane scrambled into position on the bed, putting most of his weight on his arms and elbows. After grabbing lube from the nightstand, Ryan settled behind him.

“Um. Please don’t hit me in the face with this,” he said, shifting Shane’s tail out of the way.

“I can’t make any promises. He has a mind of his own.”

“Great.”

With more effort that it appeared, Shane flipped his tail up, so it was lying parallel to his spine. Damn, it was weird to use those muscles again. “Better?”

“Much.”

Shane heard the soft snap of a lid and the tell-tale sounds of slick fingers rubbing against each other. He’d been half-hard for a little bit now, but the anticipation of Ryan’s fingers was getting him all the way there.

“So,” Ryan started, very lightly brushing one finger against him. “How were you going to do it?”

“What?” Shane asked, lifting his head, cringing when a horn scraped against the headboard.

He pressed just one fingertip against him. Not inside, just against. It was infuriating. “Propose.”

“Shit, Ryan. Right now?”

“Yeah.”

Shane was no longer sure how he felt about this cocky and brave Ryan Bergara he had created, his finger trailing down and away from where he really wanted it. “Well, I don’t have my phone, so it won’t be exactly what I wrote down.”

“That’s okay.”

He pressed his slick, warm fingers at the space behind Shane’s balls, causing Shane to gasp.

“ _Fuck_. Alright. It started with Maizey, Mike Soup, and Gene Who is French Fries going to the movies.”

“Wait, weren’t they last at an airport with a bunch of carrots?”

Shane twisted his neck around to smirk triumphantly. “Ha! You do pay attention!”

“No, I don’t,” Ryan said stubbornly, avoiding his gaze. “Anyway, your stupid food characters were at the movies.”

“My _iconic_ , _beloved_ food characters were at the movies,” he corrected. “And the movie they were watching was called Operation Inconceivable.”

“Oh my God,” Ryan wheezed, sliding his fingers back up Shane’s ass.

“Clever, huh?” he grinned, trying to push back against Ryan’s touch. “Operation Inconceivable opens on a guy. He’s tall and lanky with hair that doesn’t stay still, and he’s been given a secret mission to spy on this other secret agent. And the other agent is kind of short with this crazy big smile and super jacked arms.”

Apparently liking what he heard, Ryan slipped just the tip of his index finger inside Shane.

“ _Fuck!_ Okay, so tall guy spies on jacked arms guy, right? And they end up becoming friends, best friends, even. They go on all these missions together and the tall guy is pretty sure he’s in love with his mark but he’s a chickenshit who just drops hints about who he really is instead of just telling the arms guy.”

He had to pause as Ryan pushed his finger all the way in and a whiny moan escaped his lips. Ryan’s fingers were so thick and strong and he knew exactly how to make Shane crazy with them.

“And then what?”

“And then, shit, I don’t remember exactly. There was a car chase and an undercover thing but I can’t recall which came first. It was all very exciting-AH, _fuck_.”

While Ryan had teased the first finger in, he thrust the second in without any warning, twisting them together inside Shane. Shane desperately wanted to touch his cock, but with his claws bound, all he could do was focus on the stretch Ryan was giving him.

“The graphics team would’ve killed you if they’d had to animate a car chase,” Ryan said, pouring a bit more lube on his fingers as they thrust in and out of Shane.

“Would’ve been worth it,” he gasped, dropping his head as much as he could. His horns kept him from being able to rest his forehead against his wrists, unless he wanted to puncture holes in the mattress. “But at some point, the tall guy gets found out as a double agent, and the arms guy has to make a choice whether to stay with him or leave him to die. And there was a whole speech I wrote, it was very romantic, but kinda hard to remember with your fingers in my ass.”

“Give me the gist.”

It was subtle, but there was a strain to Ryan’s voice that Shane recognized. The hand that wasn’t opening Shane up was undoubtedly around Ryan’s cock now.

“It was, _shit Ryan_ ,” (he added a third finger). “It was the tall guy telling the arms guy how much he loved him but he’d understand if he never wanted to see him again, and y’know, lots of other extremely subtle nods to our relationship.”

“Mmhmm,” Ryan murmured, slightly curling the tips of his fingers inside him and the noise that ripped out of Shane’s throat was undignified, at best.

“FUCK. Ah fuck, I can’t...I can’t remember the rest. You’re fucking it out of me.”

“My dick isn’t even in you, yet.”

“Finger-fucking is still fucking,” he pointed out with a groan.

“True,” Ryan agreed, punctuating it with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers before pulling them out completely. Shane whined at the loss of contact, primarily because now all he could focus on was his untouched cock that was leaking precome onto the sheets.

He could hear Ryan slick up his own cock before _finally_ pressing it against him, easing in deliberately. Fuck it, Shane had to bury his face against his claws, not caring that he was ripping holes in their sheets with his horns. Ryan was so thick and the pressure was so good.

“ _Hey_ ,” Ryan said in a low, half-dangerous tone. “We’re low on Witchdex, y’know.”

“Couldn’t help it,” he gasped, pushing back against Ryan’s cock, his right horn tearing an even longer split in the sheets.

Suddenly, he felt slick fingers wrap around his right horn, pulling it and his head up and away from the mattress, all while Ryan’s cock continued to fill him. Oh fuck, this was a lot, but in a good way.

“Okay?” Ryan asked, voice ragged, once he was all the way in.

“Yeah. Don’t stop,” Shane panted, rocking his hips back.

With his left hand gripped around Shane’s hip, and the other around his horn, Ryan met Shane’s rhythm, plunging in and out of him. Ryan’s fingers, still warm and sticky from lube, felt so fucking good wrapped his horn. It had been decades since Shane had had sex as his true self and he’d forgotten how incredible it was to have his horns touched. Why the fuck hadn’t they done this sooner?

After a few minutes, Ryan slowed his hips and Shane genuinely thought he might kill him, fiancé or not.

“Shane?”

“Nnngh, _what_?”

Ryan lifted his fingers from Shane’s hip to dance them across his lower back, circling the base of his tail. “Would it hurt if you got on your back?”

“A little but I wouldn’t care anyway because _why did you stop_?” Shane demanded, gritting his teeth. His cock was absolutely throbbing and if it wasn’t going to be touched right now, he at least needed to be fucked properly.

Without another word, Ryan slipped out of him but before Shane could complain, he was being flipped onto his back. Fuck, he loved that he wasn’t the only one of them that could throw the other around like that.

Ryan crawled up on the bed so he could kiss Shane, biting at his lip while Shane looped his bound wrists around Ryan’s neck as he kissed back, arching off the bed to try and gain some friction for his neglected cock but Ryan pulled away, at least as much as he could with Shane’s arms around him.

“Oh _c’mon_ ,” Shane griped. “You’re fucking killin’ me here.”

“Horns or dick?”

“What?”

“I can either stay like this,” Ryan said, dipping his head back down and _holy shit licking_ his horn. “Or, I can sit back up and jack you off. Horns or dick.”

Breath ragged, Shane stared at him.

“You’re into that?”

“I’m into _you_ ,” Ryan clarified, licking across the seam of Shane’s lips. “All of you.”

Well, Shane’s cock had gone this long without being touched, it could go a little longer.

“Horns,” he breathed.

“Sweet.”

It took a few moments to get readjusted and positioned correctly, but once Ryan’s cock was back inside him and his hand was once again curled around his horn, Shane knew he made the right choice. He didn’t even care that the spiked end of his tail was pushing against his back, everything else was so overwhelming and so goddamn incredible. Ryan filling him up, swearing like it was the end of the world, rubbing his fingers up and down the spirals of Shane’s horn, it was one of the best experiences of his life. His _entire_ life.

When Ryan’s hips began to stutter, he had one last request to make it even better.

“Can I come inside you?”

What Shane meant to say was “Fuck yes.” but it came out as a garbled moan of consonants and vowels that resembled no actual words. Ryan bit back a laugh before squeezing his eyes shut and burying himself deep inside Shane to come.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Ryan swore as he pulled out and fell limp against Shane’s chest. His hair was plastered sideways against his forehead, his lips bright red and swollen, and his skin was almost literally glowing with sweat.

Okay, Shane literally could not take it anymore.

“Ryan, _please,_ ” he whimpered, shifting his hips up. “Need you.”

He trailed a hand down Shane’s chest, stopping right above where his cock was leaking against his stomach. “Yeah?”

“ _Yes_ , you monster,” he groaned.

“Finish it.”

“Finish what?”

“Your proposal. You left off where the tall guy tells the arms guy that he loved him but the arms guy could still leave. What happened after that?”

Shane swallowed, his claws flexing together with a _clack_. “For reasons the tall guy never understood, the arms guy stayed. He didn’t expose him, didn’t run away, he stayed, even though he lost his sight-,”

“Subtle.”

Shane lightly kicked at Ryan’s leg for that but continued. “-and had a bunch of crazy shit happen to him, he stayed with the tall guy. And so tall guy, does the only thing that he can.”

“What’s that?” Ryan edged his fingers onto Shane’s cock, the ghost of a touch, and he almost came right there.

“He stays too,” he gasped in between needy moans. “Ryan, _baby_ , _please._ ”

That finally did it, and Ryan wrapped his hand fully around Shane’s cock. It only took a few strokes but holy shit did Shane not care because as he came, he swore he not only saw stars, but the entire fucking galaxy.

“All it took, huh?” Ryan smirked, stroking him through the aftershocks.

“Don’t care, too blissed out,” Shane sighed happily, also not caring that he was covered in his own come. “Can you undo me?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.”

Ryan briefly sat up to loosen the tie around Shane’s wrists and flung it off the side of the bed before settling back down with his head on Shane’s shoulder. Carefully, Shane flung an arm around him to hold him in close, while his claws rested against his own stomach.

“You want some healing stuff for that?” Ryan asked, lightly pressing his fingers to the pink skin on Shane’s wrist.

“Nah, it’s fine.”

Ryan’s fingers slid across the top of Shane’s clawed hand and settled themselves in between the digits.

“I forgot how red they were,” he commented softly.

“Yeah. Scary, huh?”

“I dunno. I think it’s cool.”

Shane pressed a kiss to the top of Ryan’s head. “Only you.”

They laid there quietly for a bit, soaking each other in. Shane knew they should shower and clean the extremely disgusting and torn sheets but he was too content, and Ryan was as well. As much as they’d been through, as much as they’d shared, it had never felt quite like this before and Shane wasn’t sure if it was the lack of glasses and spells or their engagement or both, but he never wanted it to stop. 

“Can I ask you something?” Ryan finally spoke.

“Sure.”

“That night, when you cut your hand...what would you have done if I had kissed you?”

“Jesus, been holding onto that for awhile?” Shane shook his head. “That was so many moons ago.”

“I know, but I’ve been thinking about it again, lately. It was the first time I thought about all of this.” He tapped his fingers against Shane’s skin. “What we could be.”

“Wait, we had _one_ slightly sexually tense moment and you started daydreaming about marriage?!”

“Not marriage, specifically, but _stuff,”_ he huffed, like that explained it. “I overthink shit, how is this surprising?”

“I guess it’s not,” Shane conceded. “You’re still a nutcase, though.”

Now it was Ryan’s turn to kick him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Shane thought on it for a second. “Honestly? I probably would’ve kissed you back before realizing what I was doing, faked having to puke, and then never brought it up ever again.”

“I don’t know what I expected,” Ryan sighed. “This would have never happened if I hadn’t found out, huh?”

Shane didn’t have to ask what he meant. “No. All my previous human relationships were casual, so it didn’t really matter that they didn’t know what I was. But I knew I could never keep it casual with you.”

“We’re in the same boat there. Who gets married twice within a year of dating?”

“Us assholes,” Shane grinned, urging Ryan to scoot up so he could kiss him. Ryan obliged, slipping his fingers into Shane’s hair and around the base of his horns, while Shane gently caressed Ryan’s back with the pads of his claws.

“I love you,” Ryan whispered when they broke apart.

“I know.”

Ryan groaned, falling back on a pillow. “You can’t Han Solo me! If either of us are Han Solo, it’s me!”

“No way!” Shane protested. “I’d totally rock that vest more than you.”

“Are you saying I can’t rock a vest? With these blasters at my side?” he smirked, flexing his arms. It was so stupid and cheesy and they both burst out laughing.

“Okay but that makes me Leia and she is way more intimidating than me so that doesn’t fit.”

“True. Hey, wait, I know who you are! You’re tall and love to eat and have freakish strength: you’re Chewie!”

Shane laughed so hard he snorted. “And now you’ve made Han and Chewbacca a couple, congrats.”

“Hey, I bet space is lonely,” he pointed out in between laughs. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah,” Shane smiled, tapping his newly adorned ring finger against Ryan’s arm. “I still can’t believe I convinced you to get a cat.”

“And I still think you hoodwinked me with your magic on that one,” he said as he rolled out of bed, holding his hand out for Shane to follow.

He did, wincing as his tail unstuck itself from his back. “Marty McFly-Bergara-Madej is our son, I would never!”

“Whatever you say.”

They shuffled into the bathroom and waited for the shower to warm up. Shane could hardly believe that it was just a year ago when this had all truly gotten started, in a dusty old house in North Carolina with an even dustier demon who threatened Ryan. If that old geezer hadn’t been there, he would have never accidentally revealed himself to Ryan, never kept the bloody face evidence, never gotten in trouble with the demonic courts, and never actually come clean about everything. And he certainly wouldn’t be here, bickering with the love of his life about their pet cat on the night they decided to get married for a second time.

Yeah, Shane was a pretty terrible demon. The worst demon, probably. But was that really such a bad thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! And please let me know if there are any additional tags or warnings that might be helpful. <3


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